STREET. 
CO. 


THE     SEASONS 


BY 


JAMES    THOMSON. 


CRITICAL  OBSERVATIONS   OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS  ON  IIIS 
GENIUS  AND  CHARACTER; 


NOTES,   EXPLANATORY    AND    CRITICAL, 


JAMES  ROBERT  BOYD, 

EDITOR    OF  THE    I      I      lljiilljlll1  I.     \  HI  1 1   III     Jill      I  '      NIGHT  THOUGHTS, 


UHIYBBSITY 


"The  Seasons,"— a  J^^^hp^feH"drt ^i^P^D^  the  unfading  beauties 
Nature,  will  live  as  long  aa^gfejfe^jg  WJffljgiyfr^ritten  shall  be  re<t<l 

DR.  AIKJ>. 


REVISED    EDITION. 

NEW  YORK: 
A.   S.   BARNES    &    CO.,  51   JOHN- STREET. 

CINCINNATI:  — II.  W.   DERBY    A    CO. 
1856. 


-..:-:  -:.yfc:>    ;  .-   ^ 

-.::••  :--::.\V. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852 
BY  A.  S.  BARNES  &  CO. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


RICHARD    C.  VALENTINE. 
NEW  YORK.. 


PLAN  AND  DESIGN  OF  THIS  EDITION, 


IN  this  age,  when  the  press  is  covering  our  land  with 
a  frivolous  and  pernicious  literature,  there  is  great  dan- 
ger that  the  rising  generation  will  too  much  neglect,  if 
not  entirely  lose  sight  of,  those  noble  and  solid  produc- 
tions of  the  British  Muse  which  were  familiar  to  their 
predecessors — the  poems  of  Milton  and  Young,  of  Cow- 
per  and  Thomson.  These  are  worthy,  not  of  a  hasty 
perusal  only,  but  of  frequent  and  profound  study — espe- 
cially by  the  young — for  the  varied  information  which 
they  contain ;  for  the  learning,  and  taste,  and  high  order 
of  genius  which  they  display,  and  for  the  eminent  service 
they  are  adapted  to  afford,  in  the  proper  culture  of  the 
mind  and  of  the  heart.  The  study  of  such  authors,  if  so 
far  pursued  as  to  secure  a  fair  appreciation  of  their  style, 
and  sentiments,  and  scientific  information,  cannot  fail  to 
raise  the  mind  above  the  danger  of  contaminating  and 
degrading  itself  with  the  greatly  inferior  and  the  worth- 
less productions  so  common  at  the  present  day.  But 
such  an  acquaintance  with  these  authors  cannot,  except 
in  rare  instances,  be  looked  for,  without  the  aid  of  suit- 
able commentaries,  that  shall  clear  up  obscure  passages, 
call  attention  to  what  is  beautiful  or  faulty  in  style  or 
sentiment,  and,  in  short,  give  to  the  immature  and  un- 
cultivated mind  the  aid  and  the  incitement  which  it 


4  PLAN    AND   DESIGN    OF   THIS   EDITION. 

needs,  to  enter  into  the  spirit  and  feel  the  force  of  these 
productions.  In  our  academies  and  colleges  the  poets  of 
Greece  and  Rome  are  critically  studied  ;  many  years  of 
toil  are  bestowed  upon  them  ;  but  it  is  painful  to  con- 
sider how  little  attention,  on  the  other  hand,  is  devoted 
to  the  English  poets,  though  some  of  them  are  not  less 
deserving  than  the  former  of  study  and  admiration.  It 
was  the  earnest  desire  and  hope  of  leading  teachers  to 
give  to  the  best  English  poets  the  same  high  place  in  a 
course  of  education,  and  the  same  attention  which  is 
given  to  the  Roman  and  Grecian,  that  induced  me  to 
prepare  a  critical  commentary  on  the  Paradise  Lost,  and 
on  Young's  Xight  Thoughts,  and  now  upon  Thomson's 
Seasons ;  and  I  cannot  doubt,  that  at  no  distant  day  a 
thorough  and  critical  study  of  such  works  as  these  will 
l)e  deemed  essential,  and  will  be  demanded  in  all  semi- 
naries above  the  grade  of  the  primary  schools.  It  is  true 
that  even  in  these  the  poems  alluded  to  are  used  exten- 
sively ;  but,  in  almost  all  instances,  it  is  for  no  higher 
purpose  than  grammatical  parsing.  This,  indeed,  has 
its  benefits,  but  there  are  much  higher  purposes  to  be 
attained  in  the  proper  study  of  these  authors,  which,  it  is 
hoped,  may  be  secured  by  the  diligent  study  of  them  in 
connection  with  the  commentaries  now  before  the  public. 

Not  only  in  the  school-room — in  the  family  circle  also 
— the  productions  of  these  distinguished  English  poets, 
explained  and  illustrated,  are  much  needed.  Every 
family  library  and  every  districts chool  library  should 
contain  a  commentary  upon  Milton,  and  Young,  and 
Thomson,  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  mass  of  readers. 

In  my  editions  of  these  authors,  I  have  endeavored,  by 
the  copiousness  and  elementary  character  of  many  of  the 
notes,  to  make  the  study  of  them  an  introduction  and 


PLAN   AND   DESIGN   OF   THIS   EDITION.  5 

preparation  for  the  general  reading  of  poetry  to  advan- 
tage— an  object  of  no  small  importance  in  the  view  of 
any  one  who  duly  regards  a.nd  seeks  to  promote  the  re- 
finement of  taste,  the  proper  culture  of  the  imagination, 
and  intellectual  strength. 

Bishop  Newton  first  rendered  to  the  cause  of  literature 
and  to  the  general  reader,  a  most  important  service,  by 
selecting  from  the  papers  of  Addison,  in  the  Spectator, 
the  criticisms  which  they  contained  upon  the  Paradise 
Lost,  and  by  distributing  them  in  the  form  of  notes  to  the 
various  parts  of  the  poem  to  which  they  related,  that  they 
might  conveniently  be  read  in  connection  with  the  pas- 
sage thus  illustrated  or  explained.  In  the  illustration  of 
Thomson,  I  have  adopted  the  same  course,  by  selecting 
from  the  pages  of  reviews  and  other  works,  such  valuable 
criticisms  as  I  have  discovered  upon  "The  Seasons," 
and  by  distributing  them  through  the  poem  for  the  con- 
venience of  the  reader :  so  that  the  notes  will  be  found 
to  embrace  a  tolerably  extensive  Cyclopedia  of  erudite 
and  tasteful  criticism,  in  reference  to  this  poem,  from  the 
pens  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished  critics  of  the  pres- 
ent century — no  small  advantage  surely  to  all  who  have 
not  access  to  these  original  sources,  or  if  they  had,  have 
not  the  time  or  industry  to  look  them  up,  as  they  might 
be  found  useful  for  the  better  appreciation  of  the  succes- 
sive portions  of  the  work. 

For  the  convenience  of  the  reader,  when  taking  up  the 
poem  for  desultory  or  occasional  perusal,  the  principal 
topics  have  l>een  designated  in  a  conspicuous  manner,  so 
that  a  selection  may  be  made  without  difficulty  or  delay. 

That  "  The  Seasons"  eminently  deserves  the  labor  of 
criticism  and  of  full  illustration,  will  appear,  on  consid- 
ering the  vast  amount  of  interesting  information  of  all 


6  PLAN   AND   DESIGN   OF   THIS   EDITION. 

kinds  that  is  embodied  in  it ;  more  especially  in  regard 
to  natural  objects,  phenomena,  and  events.  While  it  is 
not  devoid  of  sentiment,  genial  and  refined,  its  more 
\  striking  characteristic  is  the  large  extent  and  compass 
of  knowledge  which  it  displays.  I  have  looked  upon  it 
as  pre-eminently  valuable,  from  the  fulness  and  'beauty 
of  its  teachings  in  all  the  prominent  departments  of 
Natural  History,  and  have  thought,  that,  by  a  some- 
what ample  explanation  of  those  subjects  in  the  notes,  a 
taste  may  be  formed,  or  matured,  in  this  interesting 
branch  of  study,  and  a  foundation  laid  for  prosecuting  it 
with  happy  success.  The  desire  is  strongly  felt,  more- 
over, to  encourage  and  aid  the  formation  of  the  Tidbit, 
so  seldom  formed,  and  yet  so  valuable,  of  connecting  with 
the  study  of  Nature  the  study  of  its  great  Author :  nor 
can  it  be  doubted  that  if  the  youthful  mind  were  trained 
to  take  delight  in  the  beauties,  sublimities,  and  ever- 
varying  changes  of  the  physical  world,  and  to  connect 
with  its  observation  of  these  an  habitual  recognition  of 
the  infinitely  wise  and  beneficent  Creator,  there  would 
be  furnished  an  unfailing  source  of  profitable  entertain- 
ment and  delight  that  would  strongly  tend  to  raise  the 
mind  above  the  danger  of  vicious  associations  and  the 
pursuit  of  vicious  practices. 

In  the  language  of  one  of  Thomson's  eloquent  coun- 
trymen, it  may  be  added,  that  "  our  moral  being  owes 
deep  obligation  to  all  who  assist  us  to  study  Mature 
aright ;  for,  believe  us,  it  is  high  and  rare  knowledge  to 
know  and  to  have  the  true  and  full  use  of  our  eyes. 
Millions  go  to  the  grave  in  old  age  without  ever  having 
learned  it :  they  were  just  beginning,  perhaps,  to  ac- 
quire it,  when  they  sighed  to  think  that  '  they  who  look 
out  of  the  windows  were  darkened,'  and  that,  while  they 


PLAN   AND   DESIGN    OF    THIS    EDITION.  7 

had  been  instructed  how  to  look,  sad  shadows  had  fallen 
on  .the  whole  face  of  nature,  and  that  the  time  for  those 
intuitions  was  gone  forever.  But  the  science  of  seeing 
has  now  found  favor  in  our  eyes  ;  and  '  blessings  are 
with  them,  and  eternal  praise,'  who  can  discover,  dis- 
cern, and  describe  the  least  as  the  greatest  of  nature's 
works ;  who  can  see  as  distinctly  the  finger  of  God  in 
the  lustre  of  the  little  humming-bird  murmuring  round 
a  rose-bush,  as  in  that  of  '  the  star  of  Jove,  so  beautiful 
and  large,'  shining  sole  in  heaven." 

As  Natural  History,  when  properly  taught,  is  a  history 
of  the  works  of  the  Creator,  and  thus  of  the  glorious  at- 
tributes concerned  in  their  production ;  as  these  works 
embrace  a  boundless  variety  and  magnificence,  the  prop- 
er study  and  observation  of  them  must  tend  to  ennoble  and 
exalt  the  mind,  and  to  improve  one's  character,  and  to 
lead  us  into  the  angelic  pleasure  of  communion  with  the 
Great  Author  of  all  good — of  all  that  is  beautiful,  grand, 
harmonious,  and  admirable  in  creation  ;  for  they 

"  Whom  Nature's  works  can  charm,  with  God  himself 
Hold  converse,  grow  familiar  day  by  day 
With  his  conceptions,  act  upon  his  plan, 
And  form  to  his  the  relish  of  their  souls." 

In  the  study  of  nature,  the  aid  of  modern  science 
must  be  diligently  employed,  to  obtain  any  thing  like  a 
full  view  of  her  wonderful  adaptations,  and  tendencies, 
and  arrangements — a  full  view  of  the  astonishing  dis- 
plays of  the  wisdom,  and  power,  and  goodness  of  the 
Creator ;  and  hence,  for  the  uneducated  reader,  various 
scientific  explanations  of  natural  objects,  phenomena, 
and  operations  have  been  furnished  in  the  notes  to  this 
edition.  But  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  perti 


PLAN   AND   DESIGN   OF   THIS    EDITION. 

nent  and  agreeable  illustration  of  the  great  advantage 
that  may  be  derived,  in  youth,  from  the  study  of  Thorn- 
sorts  Seasons,  than  Caroline  Bowles  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Southey)  has  furnished,  in  the  charming  autobiography 
of  her  childhood,  entitled  "  The  Birth-Day." 

"  And  was  it  chance,  or  thy  prevailing  taste, 
Beloved  instructress  I  that  selected  first 
(Part  of  my  daily  task)  a  portion  short, 
Cull'd  from  thy  '  Seasons,'  Thomson  ? — Happy  choice, 
Howe'er  directed,  happy  choice  for  me  ; 
For,  as  I  read,  new  thoughts,  new  images 
Thrill'd  through  my  heart,  with  undefined  delight, 
Awakening  so  the  incipient  elements 
Of  tastes  and  sympathies,  that  with  my  life 
Have  grown  and  strengthened  :  often  on  its  course, 
Yes — on  its  darkest  moments,  shedding  soft 
That  rich,  warm  glow  they  only  can  impart ; 
A  sensibility  to  Nature's  charms 
That  seems  its  living  spirit  to  infuse 
(A  breathing  soul)  in  things  inanimate  ; 
To  hold  communion  with  the  stirring  air, 
The  breath  of  flowers,  the  ever-shifting  clouds, 
The  rustling  leaves,  the  music  of  the  stream  ; 
To  people  solitude  with  airy  shapes, 
And  the  dark  hour,  when  night  and  silence  reigns, 
With  immaterial  forms  of  other  worlds  ; 
But,  best  and  noblest  privilege  !  to  feel 
Pervading  Nature's  all-harmonious  whole, 
The  great  Creator's  presence  in  his  works." 

In  his  beautiful  volume,  entitled  "  The  Wanderings 
of  a  Pilgrim,"  Dr.  George  B.  Cheever  offers  some  ob- 
servations of  his  own,  and  quotes  some  from  the  pages 
of  John  Foster,  that  seem  highly  appropriate  to  be  in- 
troduced, in  fuller  illustration  of  the  subject  now  in 
hand.  He  remarks  : — "  We  do  not  con  men's  features 


PLAN   AND    DESIGN    OF   THIS    EDITION.  V 

alone  when  we  meet  them :  we  learn  their  habits, 
thoughts,  feelings  ;  we  speak  to  their  souls.  And  Na- 
ture hath  a  soul  as  well  as  features.  But  a  man's  own 
soul  must  be  awakened  within  him,  and  not  his  pleas- 
ure-loving faculties  and  propensities  merely,  if  he  would 
enter  into  communion  with  the  soul  that  is  in  nature. 
Otherwise,  it  is  as  with  a  vacant  stare  that  he  sees 
mountains,  forests,  bright  skies,  and  sounding  cataracts 
pass  before  him  ;  otherwise,  it  is  like  a  sleep-walker  that 
he  himself  wanders  among  them.  What  is  not  in  him- 
self he  finds  not  in  nature ;  and  as  all  study  is  but  a 
discipline  to  call  forth  our  immortal  faculties,  no  good 
will  it  do  the  man  to  range  through  nature  as  a  study,  if 
his  inward  being  be  asleep,  if  his  mind  be  world-rusted 
and  insensible. 

'  It  were  a  vain  endeavor 

Though  I  should  gaze  forever 
On  that  green  light  that  lingers  in  the  west ; 
,          I  may  not  hope  from  outward  forms  to  win 

The  passion  and  the  life,  whose  fountains  are  within.' 

And  hence  the  extreme  and  melancholy  beauty  of  that 
passage  in  John  Foster's  writings,  where  he  speaks  of 
the  power  of  external  nature  as  an  agent  in  our  educa- 
tion, and  laments  the  inward  deficiency  in  many  minds, 
which  prevents  our  ;  foster-mother'  from  being  able  to 
instil  into  them  her  sweetest,  most  exquisite  tones  and 
lessons.  '  It  might  be  supposed,'  he  says,  '  that  the 
scenes  of  nature,  an  amazing  assemblage  of  phenomena, 
if  their  effect  were  not  lost  through  familiarity,  would 
have  a  powerful  influence  on  all  opening  minds,  and 
transfer  into  the  internal  economy  of  ideas  and  senti- 
ment something  of  a  character  and  a  color  correspondent 

1* 


10  PLAN   AND   DESIGN    OF   THIS    EDITION. 

to  the  beauty,  vicissitude,  and  grandeur  which  continu- 
ally press  on  the  senses.  On  minds  of  genius  they  often 
have  this  effect ;  and  Beattie's  Minstrel  may  be  as  just 
as  it  is  a  fascinating  description  of  the  feelings  of  such  a 
mind.  But  on  the  greatest  number  this  influence  oper- 
ates feebly ;  you  will  not  see  the  process  in  children,  nor 
the  result  in  mature  persons.  The  charms  of  nature  are 
objects  only  of  sight  and  hearing,  not  of  sensibility  and 
imagination.  And  even  the  sight  and  hearing  do  not 
receive  impressions  sufficiently  distinct  and  forcible  for 
clear  recollection  ;  it  is  not,  therefore,  strange  that  "these 
impressions  seldom  go  so  much  deeper  than  the  senses 
as  to  awaken  pensiveness  or  enthusiasm,  and  fill  the 
mind  with  an  interior  permanent  scenery  of  beautiful 
images  at  its  own  command.  This  defect  of  fancy  and 
sensibility  is  unfortunate  amid  a  creation  infinitely  rich 
with  grand  and  beautiful  objects,  which,  imparting  some 
thing  more  than  images  to  a  mind  adapted  and  habitua- 
ted to  converse  with  nature,  inspire  an  exquisite  senti- 
ment, that  seems  like  the  emanation  of  a  spirit  residing 
in  them.  It  is  unfortunate,  I  have  thought  within  these 
few  minutes,  while  looking  out  on  one  of  the  most  enchant- 
ing nights  of  the  most  interesting  season  of  the  year,  and 
hearing  the  voices  of  a  company  of  persons,  to  whom  I 
can  perceive  that  this  soft  and  solemn  shade  over  the 
earth,  the  calm  sky,  the  beautiful  stripes  of  cloud,  the 
stars,  and  the  waning  moon  just  risen,  are  all  blank  and 
indifferent.' " 

j  Besides  the  Natural  History,  most  beautifully  and 
tooetically  treated  in  this  Poem  throughout,  and  its  adap- 
tation, from  this  source,  to  produce  ennobling  thoughts 
/of  the  Creator,  and  to  lead  us  to  the  sublime  habit  of 
-  religious  communion  with  him  through  the  medium  of 


PLAN    AND   DESIGN    OF   THIS    EDITION.  11 

his  varied  works,  there  are  many  other  aspects  of  this  I 
noble  production  that  commend  it  to  our  careful  study, 
and  which  will  be  exhibited  in  the  account  that  is  given 
in  the  following  pages  of  the  general  structure  of  the 
Poem,  from  the  skilful  pen  of  Dr.  Aikin.  To  an  Essay 
of  this  distinguished  scholar  and  critic,  on  Thomson's 
Seasons,  I  have  also  been  indebted  for  most  of  the  valu- 
able "Kemarks"  that  are  placed  before  each  of  the 
"  Seasons." 

It  deserves  special  notice  that  the  Poem  abounds  in{ 
brief  but  admirable  sketches  of  a  large  number  of  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  ancient  and  modern  times — 
philosophers,  statesmen,  poets,  warriors,  and  kings : 
these  sketches  are  rendered  more  complete  and  instruc- 
tive by  the  supplementary  matter  furnished  in  the  Notes 
of  the  present  edition. 

The  "Critical  Observations"  illustrative  of  the  genius 
and  character  of  the  poet,  and  which  have  been  carefully 
gathered  from  the  writings  of  men  of  a  highly  cultivated 
taste,  constitute  another  feature  of  this  edition  which 
will  commend  it  to  the  intelligent  reader,  and  prepare 
him  for  a  more  eager  and  advantageous  perusal  of  this 
great  and  noble  Poem. 

Some  disappointment,  possibly,  may  be  felt,  on  ob- 
serving that  no  professed  memoir  of  the  amiable  poet 
is  here  provided ;  but  in  place  of  it,  I  have  judged  it 
best,  as  his  life  is  somewhat  barren  of  incident,  to  scat- 
ter about  in  the  notes  such  particulars  relating  to  his 
character  and  history  as  were  deemed  sufficiently  inter- 
esting ;  and  have  thus  accomplished  the  double  purpose 
of  exhibiting  the  poet,  and  of  illustrating  at  the  same 
time  several  passages  in  his  Poem.  Indeed  (as  Dr.  Mur- 
dock  remarks),  "  as  for  his  more  distinguishing  qualities 


12  PLAN   AND   DESIGN   OF   THIS    EDITION. 

of  mind  and  heart,  they  are  better  represented  in  his 
writings  than  they  can  be  by  the  pen  of  any  biogra- 
pher. There,  his  love  of  mankind,  of  his  country  and 
friends,  his  devotion  to  the  Supreme  Being,  founded  on 
the  most  elevated  and  just  conceptions  of  his  operations 
and  providence,  shine  out  in  every  page.  He  took  no 
part  in  the  poetical  squabbles  which  happened  in  his 
time,  and  was  respected  and  left,  undisturbed  by  both 
sides.  He  would  even  refuse  to  take 'offence  when  he 
justly  might,  by  interrupting  any  personal  story  that 
was  brought  to  him,  with  some  jest,  or  some  humorous 
apology  for  the  offender.  Nor  was  he  ever  seen  ruffled 
or  discomposed,  but  when  he  read  or  heard  of  some  fla- 
grant instance  of  injustice,  oppression,  or  cruelty:  then, 
indeed,  the  strongest  marks  of  horror  and  indignation 
were  visible  in  his  countenance.  These  amiable  vir- 
tues, this  divine  temper  of  mind,  did  not  fail  of  their 
reward.  His  friends  loved  him  with  an  enthusiastic  ar- 
dor, and  lamented  his  untimely  fate :  the  best  and 
greatest  men  of  his  time  honored  him  with  their  friend- 
ship and  protection." 

Among  these,  the  Hon.  George  Lyttleton  expressed 
his  high  regard  for  Thomson  in  the  Prologue  which  he 
wrote  for  the  poet's  posthumous  tragedy  of  "  Coriolamis," 
in  1749,  soon  after  the  author's  decease;  and  which  was 
most  feelingly  delivered  by  Mr.  Quin,  another  personal 
friend  of  Thomson's.  The  following  lines  form  a  part 
of  the  Prologue : 

"  I  come  not  here  your  candor  to  implore 
For  scenes,  whose  author  is,  alas  !  no  more  ; 
He  wants  no  advocate  his  cause  to  plead  ; 
You  will  yourselves  be  patrons  of  the  dead. 
No  party  his  benevolence  confined, 
No  sect ; — alike  it  flowed  to  all  mankind. 


PLAN   AND    DESIGN    OF   THIS    EDITION.  13 

He  loved  his  friends — forgive  the  gushing  tear — 

Alas  !  I  feel  I  am  no  actor  here. 

He  loved  his  friends  with  such  a  warmth  of  heart, 

So  clear  of  interest,  so  devoid  of  art, 

Such  generous  friendship,  such  unshaken  zeal, 

No  words  can  speak  it,  but  our  tears  can  tell. 

Oh  candid  truth,  oh  faith  without  a  stain — 

Oh  manners  gently  firm,  and  nobly  plain — 

Oh  sympathizing  love  of  others'  bliss, 

Where  will  you  find  another  breast  like  his  ? 

Such  was  the  Man — the  Poet  well  you  know, 

Oft  has  he  touched  your  hearts  with  tender  woe  : 

Oft  in  this  crowded  house,  with  just  applause, 

You  heard  him  teach  fair  Virtue's  purest  laws  ; 

For  his  chaste  Muse  employed  her  heaven-taught  lyre 

None  but  the  noblest  passions  to  inspire — 

Not  one  immoral,  one  corrupted  thought — 

One  line,  which  dying  he  could  wish  to  blot." 

At  the  request  of  Lord  Buchan,  Eobert  Burns,  the 
Bweet  poet  of  Scotland,  prepared  the  following  stanzas 
in  memory  of  Thomson.  The  author  seems  to  have  felt 
that  they  are  not  equal  to  the  subject  he  would  honor, 
as  he  accompanied  them  with  the  following  statements  : 
"  Your  Lordship  hints  at  an  Ode  for  the  occasion  ;  but 
who  would  write  after  Collins  ?  I  read  over  his  verses 
to  the  memory  of  Thomson,  and  despaired.  I  attempted 
three  or  four  stanzas  in  the  way  of  Address  to  the  Shade 
of  the  Bard,  on  crowning  his  bust.  I  trouble  your 
Lordship  with  the  inclosed  copy  of  them,  which  I  am 
afraid  will  be  but  too  convincing  a  proof  how  unequal 
I  am  to  the  task  you  w^ould  obligingly  assign  me." 

While  virgin  Spring,  by  Eden's  flood, 

Unfolds  her  tender  mantle  green, 
Or  pranks  the  sod  in  frolic  mood, 

Or  tunes  the  ^Eolian  strains  between  \ 


14:  PLAN    A1STD    DESIGN    OF   THIS   EDITION. 

While  Summer  with  a  matron  grace 

Retreats  to  Dryburgh's  cooling  shade, 
Yet  oft  delighted  stops  to  trace 

The  progress  of  the  spiky  blade  ; 

"While  Autumn,  benefactor  kind, 

By  Tweed  erects  her  aged  head, 
And  sees,  with  self-approving  mind, 

Each  creature  on  her  bounty  fed  ; 

"While  maniac  Winter  rages  o'er 

The  hills  whence  classic  Yarrow  flows, 
Rousing  the  turbid  torrent's  roar, 

Or  sweeping  wild  a  waste  of  snows ; 

So  long,  sweet  poet  of  the  Year,' 
Shall  bloom  that  wreath  thou  well  hast  won, 

While  Scotia  with  exulting  tear 

Proclaims  that  Thomson  was  her  son. 

The  beautiful  Ode  of  Collins,  to  which  Burns  so  mod- 
estly alludes  above,  acquires  additional  interest  from 
what  Dr.  Murdock  states  of  its  author — that  he  had 
lived  some  time  at  Richmond,  but  forsook  it  when  Mr. 
Thomson  died.  This  event  occurred,  at  Kew  Lane,  near 
Richmond,  on  the  27th  day  of  August,  1748.  The  poet's 
remains  were  interred  in  Richmond  Church,  under  a 
plain  stone,  without  an  inscription ;  but  in  1792  Lord 
Buchan  placed  a  small  brass  tablet  in  that  church,  bear- 
ing a  suitable  inscription,  and  beneath  it  this  beautiful 
extract  from  the  "  Winter  :" 

"Father  of  Light  and  Life  !  Thou  Good  Supreme  ! 
0  teach  me  what  is  good  ! — teach  me  Thyself! 
Save  me  from  folly,  vanity,  and  vice, 
From  every  low  pursuit !  and  feed  my  soul 
With  knowledge,  conscious  peace,  and  virtue  pure  ; 
Sacred,  substantial,  never-fading  bliss  !" 


PLAN   AND   DESIGN    OF    THIS    EDITION.  15 

Having  already  stated  the  design  and  nature  of  my 
editorial  labors,  I  commend  the  work  to  a  discerning  but 
candid  public,  in  the  hope  that  it  may  lend  to  multi- 
tudes essential  and  needful  aid  ;  enabling  them  to  derive 
from  the  reading  of  the  Poem  far  greater  advantage  and 
satisfaction  than  it  could  afford  them  without  the  anno- 
tations which  now  accompany  it — believing,  as  I  do, 
what  one  of  his  biographers  has  so  well  expressed,  that 
Thomson's  labors,  secure  from  the  revolutions  of  taste 
or  time,  are  destined  to  descend  with  undiminished  ad- 
miration to  the  latest  posterity ;  and  that  it  may  with 
confidence  be  predicted,  that  future  generations,  like  the 
last  and  the  present,  will  have  their  reverence  for  the 
God  of  Nature  excited,  and  their  earliest  attachment  to 
Nature  herself  strengthened,  by  the  poet  who  has  sung 
her  in  all  her  seasons. 

J.  K.  B. 

GENEVA,  N.  Y. 


16  PLAN   AND   DESIGN    OF  THIS   EDITION. 

ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THOMSON. 

BY    COLLINS. 
The  Scene  on  the  Bank  of  tlie  Thames  near  Richmond. 

IN  yonder  grave  a  Druid*  lies, 

Where  slowly  winds  the  stealing  wave  ; 
The  Year's  best  sweeis  shall  duteous  rise 

To  deck  its  Poet's  sylvan  grave. 

In  yon  deep  bed  of  whispering  reeds 

His  airy  harpf  shall  now  be  laid, 
That  he  whose  heart  in  sorrow  bleeds, 

May  love  through  life  the  soothing  shade. 

Then  maids  and  youths  shall  linger  here, 

And  while  its  sounds  at  distance  swell, 
Shall  sadly  seem  in  pity's  ear 

To  hear  the  woodland  pilgrim's  knell. 

Remembrance  oft  shall  haunt  the  shore 

"Where  Thames  in  summer  wreaths  is  drest, 

And  oft  suspend  the  dashing  oar, 
To  bid  his  gentle  spirit  rest ! 

And  oft,  as  care  and  health  retire 

To  breezy  lawn  or  forest  deep, 
The  friend  shall  view  yon  whitening  spire, \ 

And  mid  the  varied  landscape  weep. 

*  DruicL  This  name  properly  belongs  only  to  the  priests  of  ancient  Britain,  many 
of  whom  were  poets.  They  frequented  forests — those  of  oak  especially — where  they 
offered  sacrifice,  and  gave  instruction  to  the  people.  The  name  is  here  applied  to 
Thomson,  as  a  native  poet — a  frequenter  of  rural  scenery,  and  a  worshipper  there  of 
the  God  of  Nature. 

Cowper,  in  his  Table-Talk,  has  a  few  lines  illustrative  of  the  term  now  explained : 

"  Hence  British  poets  too  the  priesthood  shved, 
And  every  hallowed  Druid  was  a  bard.1' 

t  The  ^Eolian  harp. 

$  Tlmt  of  Richmond  Church,  where  Thomson  was  buried. 


PLAN   AND   DESIGN   OF   THIS   EDITION. 

But  tliou  who  own'st  that  earthy  bed, 
Ah  !  what  will  every  dirge  avail ; 

Or  tears,  which  love  and  pity  shed, 
That  mourn  beneath  the  gliding 

Yet  lives  there  one,  whose  heedless  eye 

Shall  scorn  thy  pale  shrine  glimmering  near  il 

With  him,  sweet  bard,  may  Fancy  die, 
And  joy  desert  the  blooming  Year. 

But  thou,  lorn  stream,  whose  sullen  tide 
No  sedge-crown'd  sisters  now  attend, 

Now  waft  me  from  the  green  hill's  side, 
Whose  cold  turf  hides  the  buried  friend  I 

And  see,  the  fairy  valleys  fade, 

Dun  night  has  veiled  the  solemn  view : 

Yet  once  again,  dear  parted  shade, 
Meek  Nature's  child,  again  adieu  ! 

The  genial  meads,  assign'd  to  bless 
Thy  life,  shall  mourn  thy  early  doom ; 

Their  hinds  and  shepherd-girls  shall  dress 
With  simple  hands  thy  rural  tomb. 

Long,  long,  thy  stone  and  pointed  clay 
Shall  melt  the  musing  Briton's  eyes : 

Oh  !  vales  and  wild-woods,  shall  he  say, 
In  yonder  grave  your  Druid  lies  I 


CRITICAL  OBSERVATIONS 

ON  THE  GENIUS  AND  CHARACTER  OF  THOMSON, 

CHIEFLY   AS   DISPLAYED   IN   "THE    SEASONS." 


THE  following  observations  are  drawn  from  an  anony- 
mous Memoir  of  the  poet  : 


In  the  whole  range  of  British  poetry,  Thomson's  "  Seasons'  ' 
are  perhaps  the  earliest  read,  and  most  generally  admired  :  hence 
it  is  not  necessary  to  say  much  on  the  peculiar  character  of  a 
genius  so  well  known  and  so  often  discussed.  He  was  the  Poet 
of  Nature,  and  his  chief  merit  consisted  in  describing  her,  and 
the  pleasure  afforded  by  a  contemplation  of  her  infinite  and  glo- 
rious varieties.  Studying  her  deeply,  his  mind  acquired  that 
placidity  of  thought  and  feeling  which  an  abstraction  from  pub- 
lic life  is  sure  to  generate.  §hejv3S-~to~4Hm,  as  he  has  himself 
said,  a  source  of  happiness  of  which  Fortune  could  not  deprive 
him  : 

"  I  care  not,  Fortune,  what  you  me  deny; 
You  cannot  rob  me  of  free  Nature's  grace  ; 
You  cannot  shut  the  windows  of  the  sky, 
Through  which  Aurora  shows  her  brightening  face  ; 
You  cannot  bar  my  constant  feet  to  trace 
The  woods  and  lawns,  by  living  stream  at  eve  : 
Let  health  my  nerves  and  finer  fibres  leave, 
Of  fancy,  reason,  virtue,  naught  can  me  bereave." 

His^pictures  of  scenery  and  of  rural  life  are  the  productions 
of  a  master,  and  render  him  the  Claude  of  poets.  The  "  Sea- 
sons" are  the  first  book  from  which  we  are  taught  to  worship  the 


20  CRiTiCAi, 

goddess  to  »vho3o  bei  rice  die  Bard  of  Ednam  devoted  himself; 
and  who  is  there  that  has  reflected  on  the  magnificence  of  an 
extended  landscape,  viewed  the  sun  as  he  emerges  from  the  hori- 
zon, or  witnessed  the  setting  of  that  glorious  orb  when  he  leaves 
j  the  world  to  reflection  and  repose,  and  does  not  feel  his  descrip- 
;  tions  rush  upon  the  mind,  and  heighten  his  enjoyment? 

It  has  been  said  that  the  style  of  that  work  is  pompous,  and 

that  it  contains  many  faults.     The  remark  is  partially  true.     His 

style  is  in  some  places  monotonous  from  its  unvaried  elevation ; 

but  to  him  Nature  was  a  subject  of  the  profoundest  reverence, 

.  and  he,  doubtless,  considered  that  she  ought  to  be  spoken  of 

f  with  solemnity  ;  though  it  is  evident,  from  one  of  his  verses, 

which  is  often  cited,  that  he  was  aware  that  simplicity  is  the 

most  becoming  garb  of  majesty  and  beauty. 

Another  objection  to  the  "  Seasons"  is,  that  they  contain  fre- 
quent digressions,  and,  notwithstanding  that  it  is  made  by  an 
authority,  from  which  it  may  be  presumptuous  to  dissent,  the 
justice  of  the  observation  cannot,  perhaps,  be  established.  Every 
one  who  has  read  them  will  admit  that  the  history  of  Celadon 
and  Amelia,  and  of  Lavinia,  for  example,  have  afforded  as  much 
pleasure  as  any  other  parts  ;  and  a  poem,  descriptive  of  scenery, 
(storms,  and  sunshine,  requires  the  introduction  of  human  beings 
to  give  it  life  and  animation.  A  painter  is  not  censured  for  add- 
ing figures  to  a  landscape,  and  he  is  only  required  to  render 
them  graceful,  and  to  make  them  harmonize  with  his  subject. 
The  characters  in  the  "  Seasons"  are  all  in  keeping  :  a  gleaner 
is  as  necessary  to  a  harvest-field,  as  a  lover  to  a  romance  ;  and 
it  seems  hypercritical  to  say  that  there  should  be  nothing  of  in- 
terest in  the  lives  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  villages  or  hamlets 
which  are  alluded  to.  Another  test  of  the  soundness  of  this 
criticism  is,  to  inquire,  whether  that  work  does  not  owe  its  chief 
popularity  to  those  very  digressions.  Few  persons  will  read  a 
volume,  however  beautiful  the  descriptions  which  it  contains, 
unless  they  are  relieved  by  incidents  of  human  life ;  and  if  it 
were  possible  to  strip  the  "  Seasons"  of  every  passage  not  strict- 


CRITICAL    OBSERVATIONS.  21 

Iy  relevant,  they  would  lose  their  chief  attractions,  and  soon  be 
thrown  aside. 

One  charm  of  poetry  is,  that  it  often  presents  a  vivid  picture 
of  the  idiosyncrasy  of  an  author's  mind,  and  this  is  most  con- 
spicuous in  the  episodes  to  the  immediate  subject  of  his  labors. 
The  chain  of  thought  which  led  him  astray  may  not  unfrequently 
be  discovered,  and  it  is  on  such  occasions,  chiefly,  that  those 
splendid  emanations  which  become  aphorisms  to  future  ages  are 
produced.  Genius  seems  then  to  cast  aside  all  the  fetters  which 
art  imposes,  and  individual  feeling,  usurping  for  the  moment 
entire  dominion,  the  lady  who  has  cheered  his  hopes,  or  the  co- 
quette who  has  abandoned  him,  his  friend  or  his  enemy,  as  either 
may  occur  to  his  imagination,  is  sure  to  be  commemorated  in 
words  glowing  with  the  fervor  of  inspiration.  Whilst  he  pur- 
sues the  thread  of  his  tale,  we  are  reminded  of  the  poet  alone, 
and  though  we  may  admire  his  skill,  it  is  only  when  he  breaks 
upon  us  in  some  spontaneous  burst  of  passion  that  we  sympa- 
thize with  the  man,  and  are  excited  to  kindred  enthusiasm. 


The  opinions  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  are  next  sub- 
mitted : 

As  a  writer,  Thomson  is  entitled  to  one  praise  of  the  highest 
kind  :  his  mode  of  thinking,  and  of  expressing  his  thoughts,  is 
original.  His  blank  verse  is  no  more  the  blank  verse  of  Milton, 

O  ' 

nor  of  any  other  poet,  than  the  rhymes  of  Prior  are  the  rhymes 
of  Co \vley.  His  numbers,  his  pauses,  his  diction  are  of  his  own 
growth,  without  transcription,  without  imitation.  He  thinks  in 
a  peculiar  train,  and  he  always  thinks  as  a  man  of  genius.  He 
looks  round  on  nature  and  on  life  with  the  eye  which  nature 
bestows  only  on  a  poet — the  eye  that  distinguishes,  in  every 
thing  presented  to  its  view,  whatever  there  is  on  which  im- 
agination can  delight  to  be  detained,  and  with  a  mind  that  at 
once  comprehends  the  vast,  and  attends  to  the  minute.  The 
reader  of  the  "  Seasons"  wonders  that  he  never  saw  before  what 


22  CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS. 

Thomson  shows  him,  and  that  he  never  yet  has  felt  what  Thom- 
son impresses. 

His  is  one  of  the  works  in  which  blank  verse  seems  properly 
used.  Thomson's  wide  expansion  of  general  views,  and  his  enu- 
meration of  circumstantial  varieties,  would  have  been  obstructed 
and  embarrassed  by  the  frequent  intersection  of  the  sense,  which 
is  the  necessary  effect  of  rhyme. 

His  descriptions  of  extended  scenes  and  general  effects  bring 
before  us  the  whole  magnificence  of  nature,  whether  pleasing  or 
dreadful.  The  gajetyjrf  Spring  the  splendor  of  Summer,  the 
tranquillity  of  Autumn,  and  the  horror  of  Winter,  take,  in  their 
turns,  possession  of  the  mind.  The  poet  leads  us  through  the 
appearances  of  things  as  they  are  successively  varied  by  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  the  year,  and  imparts  to  us  so  much  of  his  own 
enthusiasm,  that  our  thoughts  expand  with  his  imagery  and 
kindle  with  his  sentiments.  Nor  is  the  naturalist  without  his 
part  in  the  entertainment ;  for  he  is  assisted  to  re-collect  and  to 
combine,  to  range  his  discoveries,  and  to  amplify  the  sphere  of 
his  contemplation. 

The  great  defect  of  the  "  Seasons"  is  want  of  method ;  but 
for  this  I  know  not  that  there  was  any  remedy.  Of  many  ap- 
pearances subsisting  all  at  once,  no  rule  can  be  given  why  one 
should  be  mentioned  before  another  ;  yet  the  memory  wants  the 
help  of  order,  and  curiosity  is  not  excited  by  suspense  or  expec- 
tation. 

|  His  diction  is  in  the  highest  degree  jjorid  and  luxuriant,  such 
as  may  be  said  to  be  to  his  images  and  thoughts,  "  both  their 
jlustre  and  their  shade ;"  such  as  invest  them  with  splendor, 
through  which,  perhaps,  they  are  not  always  easily  discerned. 
It  is  too  exuberant,  and  sometimes  may  be  charged  with  filling 
the  ear  more  than  the  mind. 

The  highest  praise  which  he  has  received  ought  not  to  be 
suppressed.  It  is  said  by  Lord  Lyttleton,  in  the  Prologue  to  his 
posthumous  play,  that  his  works  contained 

"  Ko  line  which,  dying,  he  could  wish  to  blot." 


CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS.  23 

Allan  Cunningham,  a  neighbor  of  Robert  Burns,  a 
vigorous  prose  writer,  a  composer  of  Scottish  verses,  and 
/an  editor  of  several  poetical  works,  has  furnished  in  his 
excellent  biography  of  Thomson,  the  following  estimate 
of  his  characteristics  as  a  poet,  and  of  the  "  Seasons"  as 
one  of  his  best  productions  : 

Thomson  is  an  original  poet  of  the  first  order ;  and  whatv  is 
not  always  true  of  originality,  one  of  the  most  popular  in  our 
literature.  In  loftiness  of  thought,  and  poetic  glow  of  lan- 
guage, few  have  reached  him  :  the  march  of  his  Muse  is  in  mid- 
air ;  she  rarely  alights,  but  moves  on,  continuous  and  sustained : 
and  in  this  constant  elevation  he  resembles  Spenser  more  than 
any  other  poet ;  in  sweetness  of  fancy,  in  gentleness  of  soul,  and 
in  the  natural  love  of  the  beautiful  and  good,  the  same  resem- 
blance may  be  found. 

Though  a  scholar,  and  familiar  with  all  the  resources  of  an- 
cient lore,  he  rarely  allowed  learning  to  get  the  better  of  nature  : 
he  preferred,  he  said,  finding  his  poetry  in  the  great  volume 
which  Heaven  had  opened  in  earth,  and  air,  and  sky,  to  seeking 
it,  with  the  eyes  of  others,  in  the  pages  of  a  book ;  and  con- 
fessed that  he  found  it  more  laborious  to  imitate  the  beauties  of 
his  brethren  in  song,  than  to  see  them  in  nature,  and  draw  them 
for  himself.  His  heart  was  full  of  the  true  spirit  of  poetry,  and 
his  speech  was  song ;  his  verse  is  now  and  then  colored,  as  one 
flower  is  by  the  neighborhood  of  another,  with  the  hue  of  classic 
thought ;  but  he  saw  all  by  the  charmed  light  of  his  own  im- 
agination, .and  purified  his  taste  rather  by  contemplating  the 
sublime  sculptures  of  Greece  and  the  scriptural  pictures  of  Italy, 
than  by  the  numbers  of  Homer,  or  the  graces  of  Virgil. 

The  origin  of  his  "  Seasons"  has  been  sought  for,  but  not 
found,  in  the  vast  body  of  ancient  and  modern  verse.  Other 
poets  have  loved  the  shade  of  the  groves ;  the  odor  of  the 
flowers,  the  song  of  the  birds,  the  melody  of  streams,  the  fra- 


24:  CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS. 

grance  of  fruit-trees  and  green  fields,  the  warmth  of  the  sun,  the 
splendor  of  the  moon  and  stars  ;  but  no  poet,  save  the  inspired 
/one  who  wrote  the  eighth  Psalm,  attempted,  like  Thomson,  to  raise 
I  the  beauties  of  nature  out  of  the  low  regions  of  sensual  delight, 
I  and  make  them  objects  of  moral  grandeur  and  spiritual  contempla- 
tion. Thomson  perceived  order,  unity,  and  high  meaning  in  the 
loveliest  as  well  as  the  loftiest  things  :  he  loved  to  observe  the 
connection  of  the  animate  with  the  inanimate ;  the  speechless 
with  the  eloquent ;  and  all  with.  God.  He  saw  testimony  of 
heavenly  intelligence  in  the  swelling  sea,  the  dropping  cloud, 
and  the  rolling  thunder  ;  in  earthquake  and  eclipse;  as  well  as 
in  the  presence  of  Spring  on  the  fields,  of  Summer  on  the  flow- 
ers, of  Autumn  in  her  golden  harvest,  and  of  Winter  in  her  frosty 
breath  and  her  purifying  tempests. 

As  the  seasons  are  in  nature,  so  he  sung  them,  and  in  their 
proper  order.  The  poet  seems  not  to  have  erred  (in  regard  to 
method),  as  the  critic  (Dr.  Johnson)  imagines  :  he  has  truly  ob- 
served the  great  order  of  the  seasons,  and  followed  the  footsteps 
of  Nature,  without  ascribing  to  one  period  of  the  year  what  be- 
longs to  another ;  while  he  has  regarded  storms  and  tempests, 
earthquakes  and  plagues,  as  common  to  all  seasons,  and  fin-- 
ployed  them  accordingly.  His  language  has  been  called,  by 
high  authorities,  swelling  and  redundant ;  but  Thomson,  with 
other  great  poets,  held  that  a  certain  pomp  and  measured  march 
of  words  was  necessary  to  elevate  verse  which  sung  of  the  hum- 
ble toils  of  the  shepherd,  the  husbandman,  and  the  mechanic  ; 
and  though  Campbell  prefers  the  idiomatic  simplicity  of  Cowper, 
and  Coleridge  his  chastity  of  diction,  to  the  unvaried  pomp  of 
Thomson,  yet  both  confess  their  preference  of  the  latter,  as  a 
lofty  and  born  poet.  I  believe  this  conclusion  will  be  that  of  all 
who  can  feel  the  power,  the  glow,  and  the  upward  flame-like 
spirit  of  his  poetry. 


CEITICAL   OBSERVATIONS.  25 

From  Chambers'  Cyclopedia  of  English  Literature  the 
succeeding  a'ccount  of  Thomson  is  selected  : 

The  publication  of  the  "  Seasons"  was  an  important  era  in 
the  history  of  English  poetry.  So  true  and  beautiful  are  the 
descriptions  in  the  poem,  and  so  entirely  do  they  harmonize  with 
those  fresh  feelings  and  glowing  impulses  which  all  would  wish 
to  cherish,  that  a  love  of  Nature  seems  to  be  synonymous  with 
a  love  of  Thomson.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  a  person  of  edu- 
cation, imbued  with  an  admiration  of  rural  or  woodland  scenery, 
not  entertaining  a  strong  affection  and  regard  for  that  delightful 
poet,  who  has  painted  their  charms  with  so  much  fidelity  and 
enthusiasm.  The  same  features  of  blandness  and  benevolence, 
of  simplicity  of  design,  and  beauty  of  form  and  color,  which  we 
recognize  as  distinguishing  traits  of  the  natural  landscape,  are 
seen  in  the  pages  of  Thomson,  conveyed  by  his  artless  mind  as 
faithfully  as  the  lights  and  shades  on  the  face  of  creation.  No 
criticism  or  change  of  style  has,  therefore,  affected  his  popular- 
ity. We  may. smile  at  sometimes  meeting  with  a  heavy  monot- 
onous period,  a  false  ornament,  or  tumid  expression,  the  result 
of  an  indolent  mind  working  itself  up  to  a  great  effort,  and  we 
may  wish  the  subjects  of  his  description  were  sometimes  more 
select  and  dignified  ;  but  this  dra\^fek  does  not  affect  our  per- 
manent regard  or  general  feeling :  our  first  love  remains  unal- 
tered, and  Thomson  is  still  the  poet  with  whom  some  of  our  best 
and  purest  associations  are  indissolubly  joined.  In  the  "  Sea- 
sons" we  have  a  poetical  subject  poetically  treated — filled  to 
overflowing  with  the  richest  materials  of  poetry,  and  the  ema- 
nations of  benevolence.  In  the  "Castle  of  Indolence"  we  have 
the  concentration  or  essence  of  those  materials  applied  to  a  sub- 
ject less  poetical,  but  still  affording  room  for  luxuriant  fancy, 
the  most  exquisite  art,  and  still  greater  melody  of  number;*. 

The  power  of  Thomson,  however,  lay  not  in  his  art,  but  in 
the  exuberance  of  his  genius,  which  sometimes  required  to  be 
disciplined  and  controlled.  The  poetic  glow  is  spread  over  all. 

2 


26  CRITICAL   OBSERVATIONS. 

He  never  slackens  in  his  enthusiasm,  nor  tires  of  pointing  out 
the  phenomena  of  nature,  which,  indolent  as  he  was,  he  had 
surveyed  under  every  aspect  till  he  had  become  familiar  with 
all.  Among  the  mountains,  vales,  and  forests,  he  seems  to 
realize  his  own  words- 
Man  superior  walks 

Amid  the  glad  creation,  musing  praise, 

And  looking  lively  gratitude. 

But  he  looks  also,  as  Johnson  has  finely  observed,  "  with  the 
eye  which  nature  bestows  only  on  a  poet — the  eye  that  distin- 
guishes, in  every  thing  presented  to  its  view,  whatever  there  is 
on  which  imagination  can  delight  to  be  detained,  and  with  a 
mind  that  at  once  comprehends  the  vast,  and  attends  to  the 
minute."  He  looks  also  with  a  heart  that  feels  for  all  man- 
-kiiid..  His  sympathies  are  universal.  His  touching  allusions 
to  the  condition  of  tHe  poor  and  suffering,  to  the  helpless  state 
of  bird  and  beast  in  winter  ;  the  description  of  the  peasant  per- 
ishing in  the  snow,  the  Siberian  exile,  or  the  Arab  pilgrims — all 
are  marked  with  that  humanity  and  true  feeling  which  shows 
that  the  poet's  virtues  "formed  the  magic  of  his  song." 

The  ardor  and  fulness  of  Thomson's  descriptions  distinguish 
them  from  those  of  Cowper,  who  was  naturally  less  enthusias- 
tic, and  who  was  restricted  by  his  religious  tenets,  and  by  his 
critical  and  classically  formed  taste.  The  diction  of  the  "  Sea- 
sons" is  at  times  pure  and  musical ;  it  is  too  elevated  and  am- 
bitious, however,  for  ordinary  themes  ;  and  where  the  poet  de- 
scends to  minute  description,  or  to  humorous  or  satirical  scenes 
(as  in  the  account  of  the  chase  and  fox-hunter's  dinner  in 
"  Autumn"),  the  effect  is  grotesque  and  absurd.'  Mr.  Campbell 
has  happily  said  that,  "  as  long  as  Thomson  dwells  in  the  pure 
contemplation  of  nature,  and  appeals  to  the  universal  poetry  of 
the  human  breast,  his  redundant  style  comes  to  us  as  something 
venial  and  adventitious — it  is  the  flowing  vesture  of  the  Druid ; 
and  perhaps,  to  the  general  experience,  is  rather  imposing  ;  but 


CRITICAL    OBSERVATIONS.  27 

when  he  returns  to  the  familiar  narratives  or  courtesies  of  life, 
the  same  diction  ceases  to  seem  the  mantle  of  inspiration,  and 
only  strikes  us  by  its  unwieldy  difference  from  the  common  cos- 
tume of  expression."  Cowper  avoided  this  want  of  keeping 
between  his  style  and  his  subjects,  adapting  one  to  the  other 
with  inimitable  ease,  grace,  and  variety  ;  yet  only  rising  in  one 
or  two  instances  to  the  higher  flights  of  Thomson. 


To  no  critic  upon  Thomson's  genius,  and  upon  the 
"  Seasons,"  have  I  been  more  largely  indebted  than  to 
Prof.  Wilson  (lately  the  distinguished  occupant  of  the 
chair  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Edin 
burgh),  as  will  be  discovered  on  reading  the  notes  to  this 
edition.  Besides  the  admirable  criticisms  from  his  pen 
which  are  there  introduced,  the  following  paragraphs 
will  be  read  with  interest  and  gratification  : 

Thomson's  genius  does  not — very,  very  often — though  often — 
delight  us  by  exquisite  minute  touches  in  the  description  of  na- 
ture— like  that  of  Cowper.  It  loves  to  paint  on  a  great  scale — 
and  to  dash  objects  off  sweepingly  by  bold  strokes — such,  in- 
deed, as  have  almost  always  marked  the  genius  of  the  mighty  ' 
masters  of  the  lyre,  and  the  rainbow!  Cowper  sets  nature  be- 
fore your  eyes — Thomson  before  your  imagination.  Which  do  , 
you^  prefer?  Both.  Be  assured  these  poets  had  pored  night 
and  day  upon  nature,  in  all  her  aspects,  and  that  she  had  re- 
vealed herself  equally  to  both.  But  they,  in  their  religion,  de- 
lighted in  different  modes  of  worship — and  both  were  worthy 
of  the  mighty  mother.  In  one  mood  of  mind  we  love  Cowper 
best;  in  another,  Thomson.  Sometimes  the  "Seasons"  are  al- 
most a  "Task".-!—  and  sometimes  the  Task  is  out  of  season. 
There  is  a  delightful  distinctness  in  all  the  pictures  of  the  Bard 


28  CRITICAJ,   OBSERVATIONS. 

of  Olney ;  glories  gloom  or  glimmer  in  most  of  tliose  of  the 
Bard  of  Ednam.  Cowper  paints  trees ;  Thomson,  woods. 
Thomson  paints,  in  a  few  wondrous  lines,  rivers  from  source  to 
sea,  like  the  mighty  Burrampooter ;  Cowper,  in  many  no  very 
wondrous  lines,  brightens  up  one  bend  of  a  stream,  or  awa- 
kens our  fancy  to  the  murmur  of  some  single  waterfall. 

To  what  era,  pray,  did  Thomson  belong  ;  and  to  what  era, 
Cowper?  To  none.  Thomson  had  no  precursor  —  and,  till 
7  Cowper,  no  follower.  He  effulged  all  at  once,  sun-like — like 
Scotland's  storm-loving,  mist-enamored  sun,  which,  till  you 
have  seen  on  a  day  of  thunder,  you  cannot  be  said  ever  to 
have  seen  the  sun.  Cowper  followed  Thomson  merely  in 
time.  We  should  have  had  the  "  Task,"  even  had  we  never 
had  the  "  Seasons."  These  two  were  "  heralds  of  a  mighty 
train  issuing  ;"  add  them,  then,  to  the  worthies  of  our  own 
age,— and  they  belong  to  it, — and  all  the  rest  of  the  poetry  of 
the  modern  world — to  which  add  that  of  the  ancient — if  mul- 
tiplied by  ten  in  quantity — and  by  twenty  in  quality — would  not 
so  variously,  so  vigorously,  so  magnificently,  so  beautifully,  and 
so  truly  image  the  form  and  pressure,  the  life  and  spirit  of 
the  mother  of  us  all — Nature.  Are,  then,  the  "  Seasons"  and 
the  "Task"  great  poems?  Yes. — Why?  We  presume  you 
need  not  be  told  that  that  poem  must  be  great,  which  was  the 
first  to  paint  the  rolling  mystery  of  the  Year,  and  to  show  that 
all  its  seasons  were  but  "  the  varied  God."  The  idea  was 
original  and  sublime  ;  and  the  fulfilment  thereof  so  complete, 
that  some  six  thousand  years  having  elapsed  between  the  crea- 
tion of  the  world  and  of  that  poem,  some  sixty  thousand,  we 
prophesy,  will  elapse  between  the  appearance  of  that  poem 
and  the  publication  of  another  equally  great,  on  a  subject  ex- 
ternal to  the  mind,  equally  magnificent. 


Some  of  the  remarks  of  William  Hazlitt,  in  his  Lee- 


CRITICAL    OBSERVATIONS.  29 

fcures  on  the  English  Poets,  will  now  be  added — as  con- 
tributing to  the  completeness  of  a  full  and  exact  por- 
traiture of-  the  idiosyncrasies  of  Thomson's  mind,  and 
style  as  a  descriptive  poet. 

Thomson  is  the  best  of  our  descriptive  poets  ;  for  he  gives 
most  of  the  poetry  of  natural  description.  Others  have  been 
quite  equal  to  him,  or  have  surpassed  him,  as  Cowper,  for  in- 
stance, in  the  picturesque  part  of  his  art,  in  marking  the  pe- 
culiar features  and  curious  details  of  objects  ;  no  one  has  yet 
come  up  to  him  in  giving  the  sum- total  of  their  effects,  their 
varying  influences  on  the  mind.  He  does  not  go  into  the  mi- 
nutiae of  a  landscape,  but  describes  the  vivid  impression  which 
the  whole  makes  upon  his  own  imagination  ;  and  thus  transfers 
the  same  unbroken,  unimpaired  impression  to  the  imagination 
of  his  readers.  The  colors  with  which  he  paints  seem  yet 
breathing,  like  those  of  the  living  statue  in  the  Winter's  Tale. 
Nature,  in  his  descriptions,  is  seen  growing  around  us,  fresh 
and  lusty  as  in  itself.  We  feel  the  effect  of  the  atmosphere, 
its  humidity  or  clearness,  its  heat  or  cold,  the  glow  of  Summer, 
the  gloom  of  Winter,  the  tender  promise  of  the  Spring,  the 
full  over-shadowing  foliage,  the  declining  pomp  and  deepening 
tints  of  Autumn.  He  transports  us  to  the  scorching  heat  ol 
vertical  suns,  or  plunges  us  into  the  chilling  horrors  and  desola- 
tion of  the  frozen  zone.  We  hear  the  snow  drifting  against 
the  broken  casement  without,  and  see  the  fire  blazing  on  the 
hearth  within.  The  first  scattered  drops  of  a  vernal  showei 
patter  on  the  leaves  above  our  heads,  or  the  coming  storm  re- 
sounds through  the  leafless  groves.  In  a  word,  he  describes 
not  to  the  eye  alone,  but  to  the  other  senses,  and  to  the  whole 
man.  He  puts  his  heart  into  his  subject,  writes  as  he  feels,  t 
and  humanizes  whatever  he  touches.  He  makes  all  his  de- 
scriptions teem  with  life  and  vivifying  soul.  His  faults  were 
those  of  his  style — of  the  author  and  the  man  ;  but  the  original 


30  CRITICAL    OBSERVATIONS. 

genius  of  the  poet,  the  pith  and  marrow  of  his  imagination, 
the  fine  natural  mould  in  which  his  feelings  were  bedded,  were 
too  much  for  him  to  counteract  by  neglect,  or  affectation,  or 
false  ornaments.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  he  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  popular  of  all  our  poets,  treating  of  a  subject  that  all  can 
understand,  and  in  a  way  that  is  interesting  to  all  alike,  to  the 
ignorant  or  the  refined,  because  he  gives  back  the  impression 
which  the  things  themselves  make  upon  us  in  nature.  "  That," 
said  a  man  of  genius,  seeing  a  little  shabby,  soiled  copy  of 
Thomson's  Seasons  lying  on  the  window-seat  of  an  obscure 
country  ale-house — "  That  is  true  fame  !" 


THE  PLAN  AND  CHARACTER  OF  THE  "SEASONS." 


FOR  the  discriminating  and  highly  illustrative  obser- 
vations that  follow  upon  this  topic,  I  am  indebted  to  the 
pen  of  Dr.  Aikin,  the  accomplished  editor  of  the  British 
Poets  ;•  having  extracted  them  from  an  Essay  which  he 
prepared  expressly  for  an  elegant  edition  of  the  Poem. 
It  will  be  seen,  also,  that  most  of  the  Remarks  introduc- 
tory to  the  several  "Seasons"  have  been  drawn  from 
the  same  Essay.  Whoever  shall  give  these  contributions 
from  his  able  pen  a  careful  perusal,  will  be  compensated 
for  the  labor  by  a  comprehensive  and  accurate  view,  and 
a  deep  impression,  also, -of  what  Thomson  designed  and 
successfully  accomplished  in  this  immortal  Poem. 

That  Thomson's  "Seasons"  is  the  original  whence  our  modern 
descriptive  poets  have  derived  that  more  elegant  and  correct  style 
of  painting  natural  objects  which  distinguishes  them  from  their 
immediate  predecessors,  will,  I  think,  appear  evident  to  one  who 
examines  their  several  casts  and  manners.  That  none  of  them, 
however,  have  yet  equalled  their  master ;  and  that  his  perform- 
ance is  an  exquisite  piece,  replete  with  beauties  of  the  most  en- 
gaging and  delightful  kind,  will  be  sensibly  felt  by  all  of  con- 
genial taste ;  and  perhaps  no  poem  was  ever  composed  which 


32  PLAN   AND   CHARACTER    OF    THE    "SEASONS." 

addressed  itself  to  the  feelings  of  a  greater  number  of  readers. 
It  is,  therefore,  on  every  account,  an  object  well  worthy  the  at- 
tention of  criticism  ;  and  an  inquiry  into  the  peculiar  nature 
of  its  plan,  and  the  manner  of  its  execution,  may  be  an  agree- 
able introduction  to  a  reperusal  of  it  in  the  elegant  edition  now 
offered  to  the  public. 

This  was  the  first  capital  work  in  which  natural  description 
was  professedly  the  principal  object.  To  paint  the  face  of  na- 
ture as  changing  through  the  changing  seasons ;  to  mark  the 
approaches,  and  trace  the  progress  of  these  vicissitudes,  in  a 
series  of  landscapes  all  formed  upon  images  of  grandeur  or 
)eauty  ;  and  to  give  animation  and  variety  to  the  whole,  by 
nterspersing  manners  and  incidents  suitable  to  the  scenery, 
ippears  to  be  the  general  design  of  this  poem. 

Although  each  of  the  "Seasons"  appears  to  have  been  in- 
tended as  a  complete  piece,  and  contains  within  itself  the  nat- 
ural order  of  beginning,  middle,  and  termination,  yet,  as  they 
were  at  length  collected  and  modelled  by  their  author,  they 
have  all  a  mutual  relation  to  each  other,  and  concur  in  forming 
a  more  comprehensive  whole.  The  annual  space  in  which  the 
earth  performs  its  revolution  round  the  sun  is  so  strongly 
marked  by  nature  for  a  perfect  period,  that  all  mankind  have 
agreed  in  forming  their  computations  of  time  upon  it.  In  all 
the  temperate  climates  of  the  globe,  the  four  seasons  are  so 
many  progressive  stages  in  this  circuit,  which,  like  the  acts  in  a 
well-constructed  drama,  gradually  disclose,  ripen,  and  bring  to 
an  end,  the  various  business  transacted  on  the  great  theatre  of 
Nature.  The  striking  analogy  which  this  period,  with  its  sev- 

o     —  jiZtL _  i      f      ._ 

eral  divisions,  bears  to  the  course  of  human  existence,  has  been 
remarked  and  pursued  by  writers  of  all  ages  and  countries. 
Spring  has  been  represented  as  the  youth  of  the  year — the  sea- 
son of  pleasing  hope,  lively  energy,  and  rapid  increase.  Summer 
has  been  resembled  to  perfect  manhood — the  season  of  steady 
warmth,  confirmed  strength,  and  unremitting  vigor.  /Autumn, 
which,  while  it  bestows  the  rich  products  of  full  maturity,  is 


PLAN   AND    CHARACTER   OF   THE    "  SEASONS."  33 

yet  ever  hastening  to  decline,  has  been  aptly  compared  to  that 
period  when  the  man,  mellowed  by  age,  yields  the  most  valua- 
ble fruits  of  experience  and  wisdom,  but  daily  exhibits  increasing 
symptoms  of  decay.  The  cold,  cheerless,  and  sluggish* Winter 
has  almost  without  a  metaphor  been  termed  the  decrepit  and] 
hoary  old  age  of  the  year.  Thus  the  history  of  the  Year,  pur- 
sued through  its  changing  seasons,  is  that  of  an  individual, 
whose  existence  is  marked  by  a  progressive  course  from  its 
origin  to  its  termination.  It  is  thus  represented  by  our  poet. 
This  idea  preserves  a  unity  and  connection  through  his  whole  - 
work ;  and  the  accurate  observer  will  remark  a  beautiful  chain 
of  c^cumstances  in  his  description,  by  which  the  birth,  vigor, 
decline,  and  extinction  of  the  vital  principle  of  the  year,  are 
pictured  in  the  most  lively  manner. 

This  order  and  gradation  of  the  whole  runs,  as  has  been  al- 
ready hinted,  through  each  division  of  the  poem.  Every  season 
has  its  incipient,  confirmed,  and  receding  state,  of  which  its  his- 
torian ought  to  give  distinct  views,  arranged  according  to  the 
succession  in  which  they  appear.  Each,  too,  like  the  prismatic 
colors,  is  indistinguishably  blended  in  its  origin  and  termination 
with  that  which  precedes  and  which  follows  it ;  and  it  may  be 
expected  from  the  pencil  of  an  artist  to  hit  off  these  mingled 
shades  so  as  to  produce  a  pleasing  and  picturesque  effect.  Our 
poet  has  not  been  inattentive  to  these  circumstances  in  the  con- 
duct of  his  plan.  His  Spring  begins  with  a  view  of  the  season 
as  yet  unconfirmed,  and  partaking  of  the  roughness  of  Winter  ; 
and  it  is  not  till  after  several  steps  in  gradual  progression,  that 
it  breaks  forth  in  all  its  ornaments,  as  the  favorite  of  Love  and 
Pleasure.  His  Autumn,  after  a  rich  prospect  of  its  bounties 
and  splendors,  gently  fades  into  "  the  sere,  the  yellow  leaf/'  and 
with  the  lengthened  night,  the  clouded  sun,  and  the  rising  storm,, 
sinks  into  the  arms  of  Winter.  It  is  remarkable,  that  in  order 
to  produce  something  of  a  similar  effect  in  his  Summer,  a  season 
which,  on  account  of  its  uniformity  of  character,  does  not  admit 
of  any  strongly  marked  gradations,  he  has  comprised  the  whole 

•2* 


34:  PLAN    AND    CHARACTER   OF   THE    "SEASONS." 

of  his  description  within  the  limits  of  a  single  day,  pursuing  the 
course  of  the  sun  from  its  rising  to  its  setting.  A  summer's 
day  is,  in  reality,  a  just  model  of  the  entire  season.  Its  begin- 
ning is  moist  and  temperate  ;  its  middle,  sultry  and  parching ; 
its  close,  soft  and  refreshing.  By  thus  exhibiting  all  the  vicis- 
situdes of  Summer  under  one  point  of  view,  they  are  rendered 
much  more  striking  than  could  have  been  done  in  a  series  of 
feebly  contrasted  and  scarcely  distinguishable  periods. 

Every  grand  and  beautiful  appearance  in  nature  that  distin- 
guishes one  portion  of  the  annual  circuit  from  another,  is  a  proper 
source  of  materials  for  the  Poet  of  the  Seasons.  Of  these,  some 
are  obvious  to  the  common  observer,  and  require  only  justness 
and  elegance  of  taste  for  the  selection  ;  others  discover  them- 
selves only  to  the  mind  opened  and  enlarged  by  science  and  phi- 
losophy. The  most  vivid  imagination  cannot  paint  to  itself 
scenes  of  grandeur  equal  to  those  which  cool  science  and  de- 
monstration offer  to  the  enlightened  mind.  Objects  so  vast  and 
magnificent  as  planets  rolling  with  even  pace  through  their  orbits, 
comets  rushing  along  their  devious  track,  light  springing  from 
its  unexhausted  source,  mighty  rivers  .formed  in  their  subterra- 
nean beds,  do  not  require,  or  even  admit,  a  heightening  from  the 
fancy.  The  most  faithful  pencil  here  produces  the  noblest  pic- 
tures ;  and  Thomson,  by  strictly  adhering  to  the  character  of  the 
Poet  of  Nature,  has  treated  all  these  topics  with  a  true  sublim- 
ity, which  a  writer  of  less  knowledge  and  accuracy  could  never 
have  attained.  The  strict  propriety  with  which  subjects  from 
Astronomy  and  the  other  parts  of  Natural  Philosophy  are  in- 
troduced into  a  poem  describing  the  changes  of  the  seasons, 
need  not  be  insisted  on,  since  it  is  obvious  that  the  primary  cause 
of  all  these  changes  is  to  be  sought  in  principles  derived  from 
these  sciences.  They  are  the  groundwork  of  the  whole ;  and 
establish  that  connected  series  of  cause  and  effect,  upon  which  all 
those  appearances  in  nature  depend,  from  whence  the  descriptive 
poet  draws  his  materials. 

The  correspondence  between  certain  changes  in  the  animal  and 


35 

vegetable  tribes,  and  those  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
which  produce  the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons,  is  the  foundation 
of  an  alliance  between  Astronomy  and  Natural  History,  that 
equally  demands  attention,  as  a  matter  of  curious  speculation 
and  of  practical  utility.  The  astronomical  calendar,  filled  up  by 
the  Naturalist,  is  a  combination  of  science  at  the  same  time  preg- 
nant with  important  instruction  to  the  husbandman,  and  fertile 
in  grand  and  pleasing  objects  to  the  poet  and  philosopher. 
Thomson  seems  constantly  to  have  kept  in  view  a  combination 
of  this  kind ;  and  to  have  formed  from  it  such  an  idea  of  the 
economy  of  Nature,  as  enabled  him  to  preserve  a  regularity  of 
method  and  uniformity  of  design  through  all  the  variety  of  his 
descriptions.  We  shall  attempt  to  draw  out  a  kind  of  historical 
narrative  of  his  progress  through  the  seasons,  as  far  as  this 
order  is  observed.  [This  portion  of  the  Essay  has  been  distrib- 
uted to  the  several  Seasons,  under  the  head  of  Introductory 
Remarks.] 

But  the  rural  landscape  is  not  solely  made  up  of  land  and 
water,  and  trees,  and  birds,  and  beasts ;  Man  is  a  distinguished 
fire  in  it ;  his  multiplied  occupations  and  concerns  introduce  them- 
selves into  every  part  of  it ;  he  intermixes  even  in  the  wildest  ; 
and  rudest  scenes,  and  throws  a  life  and  interest  upen  every  sur- 
rounding  object.     Manners  and  character,  therefore,  constitute  ti 
part  even  of  a  descriptive  poem ;  and  in  a  plan  so  extensive  as\ 
the  history  of  the  Year,  they  must  enter  under  various  forms, 
and  upon  numerous  occasions. 

The  most  obvious  and  appropriate  use  of  human  figures  in 
pictures  of  the  Seasons,  is  the  introduction  of  them  to  assist  in 
marking  out  the  succession  of  annual  changes  by  their  various  I 
labors  and  amusements.  In  common  with  other  animals,  man  is 
directed  in  the  diversified  employment  of  earning  a  toilsome  sub- 
sistence by  an  attention  to  the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons,  and 
all  his  diversions  in  the  simpler  state  of  rustic  society  are  also 
regulated  by  the  same  circumstance.  Thus  a  series  of  moving 
figures  enlivens  the  landscape,  and  contributes  to  stamp  on  each 


36  PLAN    AND    CHARACTER   OF    THE 

scene  its  peculiar  character.  The  shepherd,  the  husbandman, 
the  hunter,  appear  in  their  turns  ;  and  may  be  considered  as 
natural  concomitants  of  that  portion  of  the  yearly  round  which 
prompts  their  several  occupations. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  bodily  pursuits  of  man  which  are  affect- 
ed by  thcse^changes ;  the  sensations  and  affections  of  his  mind 
are  almost  equally  under  their  influence  ;  and  the  result  of  the 
whole,  as  forming  the  enamored  votary  of  Nature  to  a  peculiar 
cast  of  character  and  manners,  is  not  less  conspicuous.  Thus 
the  Poet  of  the  Seasons  is  at  liberty,  without  deviating  from  his 
plan,  to  descant  on  the  varieties  of  moral  constitution,  and  the 
power  which  external  causes  are  found  to  possess  over  the  tem- 
per of  the  soul.  He  may  draw  pictures  of  the  pastoral  life  in 
all  its  genuine  simplicity  ;  and,  assuming  the  tone  of  a  moral 
instructor,  may  contrast  the  peace  and  felicity  of  innocent  retire- 
ment with  the  turbulent  agitations  of  ambition  and  avarice. 

The  various  incidents,  too,  upon  which  the  simple  tale  of  rural 
events  is  founded,  are  very  much  modelled  by  the  difference  of 
seasons.  The  catastrophes  of  Winter  differ  from  those  of  Sum- 
mer ;  the  sports  of  Spring,  from  those  of  Autumn.  Thus,  little 
historic  pieces  and  adventures,  whether  pathetic  or  amusing, 
will  suggest  themselves  to  the  poet ;  which,  when  properly 
adapted  to  the  scenery  and  circumstances,  may  very  happily 
coincide  with  the  main  design  of  the  composition. 

The  bare  enumeration  of  these  several  occasions  of  introducing 
draughts  of  human  life  and  manners,  will  be  sufficient  to  call  to 

o 

mind  the  admirable  use  which  Thomson,  throughout  his  whole 
poem,  has  made  of  them.  He,  in  fact,  never  appears  more  truly 
inspired  with  his  subject  than  when  giving  birth  to  those  senti- 
ments of  tenderness  and  beneficence,  which  seem  to  have  occu- 
pied his  whole  heart.  A  universal  benevolence  extending  to 
every  pait  of  the  animal  creation,  mani£ests  itself  in  almost  every 
scene  he  draws  ;  and  the  rural  character,  as  delineated  in  his 
feelings,  contains  all  the  softness,  purity,  and  simplicity  that  are 
feigned  of  the  golden  age. 


PLAN    AND    CHARACTER   OF    THE    "SEASONS."  37 

But  there  is  a  straj,£LQf  sentiment  of  a  higher  and  more  di- 
gressive nature,  with  which  Thomson  has  occupied  a  considerable 
portion  of  his  poem.  The  fundamental  principles  oj_MoraLPlii«  ~ 
losophy,  ideas  concerning  the  origin  and  progress  of  government 
and  civilization,  historical  sketches,  and  reviews  of  the  characters 
most  famous  in  ancient  and  modern  history,  are  interspersed 
through  various  parts  of  the  Seasons.  The  manly,  liberal,  and 
enlightened  spirit  which  this  writer  breathes  in  all  his  works, 
must  ever  endear  him  to  the  friends  of  truth  and  virtue  ;  and,  in 
particular,  his  genuine  patriotism  and  zeal  in  the  cause  of  liberty 
will  render  his  writings  always  estimable  to  the  British  [and 
American]  reader. 

There  is  another  source  of  sentiment  to  the  Poet  of  the  Sea- 
sons, which,  while  it  is  superior  to  the  last  in  real  elevation,  is 
also  strictly  connected  with  the  nature  of  his  work.  The  gen- 
uine philosopher,  while  he  surveys  the  grand  and  beautiful  ob- 
jects everywhere  surrounding  him,  will  be  prompted  to  lift  his 
eye  to  the  great  Cause  of  all  these  wonders, — the  Planner  and 
Architect  of  all  this  mighty  fabric,  every  minute  part  of  which 
so  much  awakens  his  curiosity  and  admiration.  The  laws  by 
which  this  Being  acts,  the  ends  which  He  seems  to  have  pur- 
sued, must  excite  his  humble  researches  ;  and  in  proportion  as 
he  discovers  infinite  power  in  the  means,  directed  by  infinite 
goodness  in  the  intention,  his  soul  must  be  wrapped  in  astonish- 
ment, and  expanded  with  gratitude.  The  economy  of  Nature 
will,  to  such  an  observer,  be  the  perfect  scheme  of  an  all- wise 
and  beneficent  mind  ;  and  every  part  of  the  wide  creation  will 
appear  to  proclaim  the  praise  of  its  great  Author.  Thus  a  new 
connection  will  manifest  itself  between  the  several  parts  of  the 
universe,  and  a  new  order  and  design  will  be  traced  through  the 
progress  of  its  various  revolutions. 

Thus  is  planned  and  constructed  a  Poem,  which,  founded  as 
it  is  upon  the  unfading  beauties  of  Nature,  will  live  as  long  as 
the  language  in  which  it  is  written  shall  be  read. 


IF  (^  D  Kl 


SPRING. 


INTRODUCTORY  EEMAERS. 

SPRING  is  characterized  as  the  season  of  the  renovation  of 
nature  ;  in  which  animals  and  vegetables,  excited  by  the  kindly 
influence  of  returning  warmth,  shake  off  the  torpid  inaction  of 
Winter,  and  prepare  for  the  continuance  and  increase  of  their 
several  species.  The  vegetable  tribes,  as  more  independent  and 
self-provided,  lead  the  way  in  this  progress.  The  poet,  accord- 
ingly, begins  with  representing  the  reviviscent  plants  emerging, 
as  soon  as  genial  showers  have  softened  the  ground,  in  numbers 
"  beyond  the  power  of  botanists  to  reckon  up  their  tribes/'  The 
opening  blossoms  and  flowers  soon  call  forth  from  their  winter 
retreats  those  industrious  insects  which  derive  sustenance  from 
their  nectarious  juices.  As  the  beams  of  the  sun  become  more 
potent,  the  larger  vegetables,  shrubs,  and  trees  unfold  their 
leaves ;  and,  as  soon  as  a  friendly  concealment  is  by  their  means 
provided  for  the  various  nations  of  the  feathered  race,  they  joy- 
fully begin  the  course  of  laborious,  but  pleasing  occupations, 
which  are  to  engage  them  during  the  whole  season.  The  de- 
lightful series  of  pictures,  so  truly  expressive  of  that  genial  spirit 
that  pervades  the  spring,  which  Thomson  has  formed  on  the 
variety  of  circumstances  attending  the  Passion  of  the  Groves. 
cannot  escape  the  notice  and  admiration  of  the  most  negligent 
eye.  Affected  by  the  same  soft  influence,  and  equally  indebted 
to  the  renewed  vegetable  tribes  for  food  and  shelter,  the  several 
kinds  of  quadrupeds  are  represented  as  concurring  in  the  celebra- 
tion of  this  charming  season  with  conjugal  and  parental  rights. 


42  SPRING INTRODUCTORY   REMARKS. 

Even  Man  himself,  though  from  his  social  condition  less  under 
the  dominion  of  physical  necessities,  is  properly  described  as 
partaking  of  the  general  ardor.  Such  is  the  order  and  connec- 
tion of  this  whole  book,  that  it  might  well  pass  for  a  commen- 
tary upon  a  most  beautiful  passage  in  the  philosophical  poet, 
Lucretius  (Lib.  I.  251—262),  who  certainly  wanted  nothing  but* 
a  better  system  and  more  circumscribed  subject,  to  have  ap- 
peared as  one  of  the  greatest  masters  of  description  in  either 
ancient  or  modern  poetry. 


UNIVERSITY 


THE  AKGUMENT. 

The  subject  proposed.— Inscribed  to  the  Countess  of  Hertford.— The  Season  is  de- 
scribed as  it  affects  the  various  parts  of  Nature,  ascending  from  the  lower  to  the 
higher;  with  digressions  arising  from  the  subject. — Its  influence  on  inanimate  Matter, 
on  Vegetables,  on  brute  Animals,  and  last  on  Man ;  concluding  with  a  dissuasive  from 
the  wild  and  irregular  passion  of  Love,  opposed  to  that  of  a  pure  and  happy  kind. 


COME,  gentle  SPRING,  ethereal  Mildness,  come ; 
And  from  the  bosom  of  yon  dropping  cloud, 
While  music  wakes  around,  veil'd  in  a  shower 
Of  shadowing  roses,  on  our  plains  descend. 

1.  Come,  &c. :  Spring  is  here  poetically  addressed  as  a  person,  and 
invited  to  come  forth  from  a  rain-cloud,  amidst  the  music  of  birds 
awaking  from  the  long  silence  of  winter,  and  "  veiled  in  a  shower  of 
shadowing  roses,"  because  these  are  among  the  most  beautiful  products 
of  the  season.  She  is  described  also  as  ethereal  Mildness,  to  indicate 
her  peculiarly  gentle  character  in  contrast  with  the  stern  rigor  of  the 
season  that  precedes  her. 

The  exuberance  of  Fancy  displayed  in  this  first  paragraph  greatly 
offends  the  critical  taste  of  Hazlitt,  who,  with  his  usual  extravagance, 
remarks,  that  Thomson  "  fills  up  the  intervals  of  true  inspiration  with 
the  most  vapid  -and  worthless  materials,  pieces  out  a  beautiful  half-line 
with  a  bombastic  allusion,  or  overloads  an  exquisitely  natural  sentiment 
or  image  with  a  cloud  of  painted,  pompous,  cumbrous  phrases,  like  the 
shower  of  roses  in  which  he  represents  the  Spring,  his  own  lovely,  fresh, 
and  innocent  Spring,  as  descending  to  the  earth."  "  Who"  (he  adds), 
"  from  such  a  flimsy,  roundabout,  unmeaning  commencement  as  tlu's, 
would  expect  the  delightful,  unexaggerated,  home-felt  descriptions  of 


**  SPKING. 

0  Hertford,  fitted  or  to  shine  in  courts 
With  unaffected  grace,  or  walk  the  plain  5 

With  innocence  and  meditation  join'd 
In  soft  assemblage,  listen  to  my  song, 

natural  scenery,  which  are  scattered  in  such  unconscious  profusion 
through  this  and  the  following  cantos  !  For  instance,  the  very  next 
passage  is  crowded  with  a  set  of  striking  images." 

It  will  be  a  sufficient  offset  to  the  above  effusion  of  Hazlitt  concern- 
ing this  introduction  to  "  Spring,"  to  place  beside  it  the  observations  of 
Prof.  Wilson,  the  distinguished  poet  and  critic  of  Scotland.  "  That  pic- 
ture is  indistinctly  and  obscurely  beautiful  to  the  imagination,  and  there 
is  not  a  syllable  about  sex — though  '  ethereal  Mildness]  which  is  an  im- 
personation, and  hardly  an  impersonation,  must  be,  it  is  felt,  a  virgin 
goddess,  whom  all  the  divinities  that  dwell  between  heaven  and  earth 
must  love.  Never,  to  our  taste,  had  poem  a  more  beautiful  beginning. 
It  is  not  simple  ;  nor  ought  it  to  be  :  it  is  rich,  and  even  gorgeous — for 
the  bard  came  to  his  subject  full  of  inspiration ;  and  as  it  was  the  in- 
spiration, here,  not  of  profound  thought,  but  of  passionate  emotion,  it 
was  right  that  music  at  the  very  first  moment  should  overflow  the 
page,  and  that  it  should  be  literally  strewed  with  roses.  An  imperfect 
impersonation  is  often  proof  positive  of  the  highest  state  of  poetical 
enthusiasm.  The  forms  of  nature  undergo  a  half-humanizing  process 
under  the  intensity  of  our  love,  yet  still  retain  the  character  of  the  in- 
sensate creation,  thus  affecting  us  with  a  sweet,  strange,  almost  bewil- 
dering, blended  emotion  that  scarcely  belongs  to  either  separately,  but 
to  both  together  clings  as  to  a  phenomenon  that  only  the  eye  of  genius 
sees,  because  only  the  soul  of  genius  can  give  it  a  presence — though 
afterwards  all  eyes  dimly  recognize  it,  on  its  being  shown  to  them,  as 
something  more  vivid  than  their  own  faint  experience,  yet  either  kindred 
to  it,  or  virtually  one  and  the  same." 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  characteristics  of  this  poem  is  the  great 
frequency  and  beauty  of  the  instances  of  Personification,  or  Prosopopoaia, 
which  it  contains — a  figure  of  speech  in  which  the  external  form,  the 
sentiments,  the  language,  or  acts,  of  an  animated,  sentient  being  are  at- 
tributed to  an  inanimate,  irrational  one.  For  a  second  example,  we 
have  to  look  no  farther  than  to  the  eleventh  line,  where  commences  an 
admirable  personification  of  Winter.  A  much  more  full  and  perfect 
instance,  however,  is  furnished  at  the  opening  of  "  Summer" — to  which 
the  reader  is  referred. 

The  several  parts  of  this  poem  are  not  arranged  in  the  order  of  their 
original  publication,  which  was  the  following  : — Winter,  Summer,  Spring, 
Autumn.  These  made  their  appearance,  respectively,  in  the  years  1726, 
1727  1728,  and  1730. 


SPRING.  -45 

Which  thy  own  Season  paints  ;  when  Nature  all 

Is  blooming  and  benevolent,  like  thee.  10 

And  see  where  surly  WINTER  passes  off,        /\ 
Far  to  the  north,  and  calls  his  ruffian  blasts : 
His  blasts  obey,  and  quit  the  howling  hill, 
The  shatter'd  forest,  and  the  ravaged  vale  ; 
While  softer  gales  succeed,  at  whose  kind  touch,  15 

Dissolving  snows  in  livid  torrents  lost, 
The  mountains  lift  their  green  heads  to  the  sky. 

As  yet  the  trembling  year  is  unconfirm'd, 
And  Winter  oft  at  eve  resumes  the  breeze, 
Chills  the  pale  morn,  and  bids  his  driving  sleets  J  20 

Deform  the  day  delightless  :  so  that  scarce          1 


The  progress  of  man's  life  (says  Cunningham)  has  often  been  com- 
pared to  that  of  the  Year ;  and  Thomson,  it  is  likely,  regarded  this  sub- 
ject in  that  light,  when,  at  the  happy  suggestion  of  Mallet,  he  resolved 
to  unite  the  four  "Seasons"  into  one  continuous  poem;  making  "hoary 
Winter"  the  conclusion,  and  infant  Spring  the  commencement.  On 
Spring  he  therefore  calls ;  she  descends,  amid  moisture  from  above,  and 
music  from  below ;  and  as  she  comes,  Winter  withdraws  his  snow  fromi 
the  hill,  and  his  winds  from  the  leafless  woods,  and  leaves  with  reluc- 
tance the  scene  to  his  successor — (27-43). 

5.  0  Hertford:*  The  Countess  of  Hertford,  to  whom  this  "Season" 
was  originally  dedicated  by  the  poet.  She  was  the  wife  of  Algernon, 
then  Earl  of  Hertford,  afterwards  Duke  of  Somerset.  To  her  generous 
intercession  Savage  the  poet,  condemned  for  murder,  owed  his  pardon. 
She  was  not  only  a  patroness  of  poets,  but  herself  the  writer  of  several 
poems  in  Dr.  Watts'  Miscellanies,  there  attributed  to  Eusebia.  Her 
letters  to  Dr.  Isaac  Watts,  published  in  the  Elegant  Epistles,  vol.  v., 
give  us  a  favorable  opinion  of  her  piety,  amiableness,  and  intellectual 
culture.  Thomson's  Dedication  intimates  that  his  "  Spring"  was  written 
iinder  the  encouragement,  and  in  the  hope  of  her  needed  patronage. 
He  had  the  honor  of  passing  one  summer  as  a  guest  at  her  country 
seat,  it  being  usually  her  practice  to  invite  some  poet  to  pass  that  sea- 
son with  her,  to  aid  her  in  her  poetical  studies.  She  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  the  devout  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Howe.  The  compliments  which 
Thomson  pays  to  her,  both  in  the  original  dedication  and  in  the  text, 
appear  not  to  have  been  undeserved.  His  previous  publication  of 
Winter  was  the  means  of  securing  to  him  her  favorable  regard,  besides 
that  of  several  other  distinguished  characters. 


46  SPRING. 

A  The  bittern  knows  his  time,  with  bill  ingulf 'd, 
To  shake  the  sounding  marsh ;  or  from  the  shore 
The  plovers,  when  to  scatter  o'er  the  heath, 
And  sing  their  wild  notes  to  the  list'ning  waste.  25 

INFLUENCE    OF    SPRING    ON    INANIMATE    MATTER. 

v      At  last  from  Aries  rolls  the  bounteous  Sun, 
And  the  brio;ht  Bull  receives  him.     Then  no  more 

o 

Th'  exjDansive  atmosphere  is  cramp'd  with  cold ; 

But,  full  of  life  and  vivifying  soul, 

Lifts  the  light  clouds  sublime,  and  spreads  them  thin,      30 

Fleecy,  and  white  o'er  all  surrounding  heaven. 

Forth  fly  the  tepid  airs  ;  and  unconfined, 
Unbinding  earth,  the  moving  softness  strays. 


22.  The  bittern  belongs  to  the  class  of  birds  called  Grallce,  or  Waders, 
having  very  long  legs,  which  fit  them  to  wade  in  water.  The  genus 
Ardeidce  embraces  Cranes,  Storks,  and  Herons.  These  latter  differ  from 
cranes  in  being  carnivorous ;  also  in  having  larger  bills  and  longer  legs. 
They  have  also  more  beautiful  plumage  and  elegant  crests.  They  build 
their  nests  in  company,  usually  in  trees  near  river-banks,  but  generally 
feed  and  live  apart.  They  live  chiefly  upon  fish,  which  they  secure  by 
piercing  them  with  their  long  and  sharp  bills.  To  the  heron  tribe  be- 
long the  bittern  and  the  egret,  both  of  which  are  natives  of  Britain. 

24.  The  plover  tribe  belongs  also  to  the  Waders,  but  it  is  less  aquatic 
than  most  of  the  other  species.  They  occupy,  for  the  most  part,  sandy 
and  unsheltered  shores  or  upland  moors.  They  congregate  in  flocks,  and 
run  at  a  rapid  rate.  They  live  on  worms,  which  they  bring  towards  the 
surface  of  the  ground  by  patting  on  it  with  their  feet.  The  plover  is 
not  confined  to  Britain,  but  is  widely  distributed. 

26.  Aries  :  That  portion  of  the  Zodiac  which  the  Sun  appears  to  enter 
on  the  21st  of  March.  The  next  Sign  which  receives  him,  a  month  af- 
terwards, is  Taurus,  or  the  bright  Bull,  so  called  from  the  brilliancy  of 
the  stars  in  and  near  it. 

30.  Sublime,  for  sublimely.  It  is  a  practice  with  poets  frequently  to 
use  the  adjective  adverbially,  to  modify  the  idea  expressed  by  the  verb 
or  phrase  to  which  it  may  stand  related.  It  is  a  very  convenient  and 
beautiful  peculiarity  of  our  language  that  it  admits  of  such  a  substi- 
tution. 


SPRING.  47 

Joyous,  tli'  impatient  husbandman  perceives 

Relenting  Nature,  and  his  lusty  steers  35 

Drives  from  their  stalls,  to  where  the  well-used  plough 

Lies  in  the  furrow,  loosen'd  from  the  frost. 

There  unrefusing,  to  the  harness'd  yoke 

They  lend  their  shoulder,  and  begin  their  toil, 

Cheer' d  by  the  simple  song  and  soaring  lark.  40 

Meanwhile  incumbent  o'er  the  shining  share 

The  master  leans,  removes  th'  obstructing  clay, 

Winds  the  whole  work,  and  sidelong  lays  the  glebe. 

While  thro'  the  neighboring  fields  the  sower  stalks, 

With  measured  step  ;  and  liberal  throws  the  grain  45 

Into  the  faithful  bosom  of  the  ground. 

The  harrow  follows  harsh,  and  shuts  the  scene. 

Be  gracious,  Heaven  !  for  now  laborious  man    fi 
Has  done  his  part.     Ye  fostering  breezes,  blow ; 
Ye  softening  dews,  ye  tender  showers,  descend !  50 

And  temper  all,  thou  world-reviving  Sun, 
Into  the  perfect  year  !     Nor  ye,  who  live 
In  luxury  and  ease,  in  pomp  and  pride, 
Think  these  lost  themes,  unworthy  of  your  ear  :  , 
Such  themes  as  these  the  rural  Maro  sung  55 


43.  Winds  the  whole  work  :  The  English  method  of  ploughing  consists 
in  first  running  a  furrow  through  the  centre  of  a  field,  and  then  taking 
off  successive  furrows  on  either  side  by  passing  with  the  plough  round 
and  round  that  first  furrow.  N 

46-52.  "  The  farmer  now  commits  his  seed-corn  to  the  furrow  ;  the 
harrow  follows,  and  shuts  the  scene ;  and  the  poet  calls  on  lenient  airs 
and  gentle  warmth  to  bring  their  aid  to  the  labors  of  man." 

55.  Maro :  Publius  Yirgilius  Maro,  the  great  Latin  poet,  author  of 
the  ^Eneid  and  the  Georgics,  was  born  B.  C.  70,  in  the  village  of  Andes, 
near  Mantua,  in  Italy.  His  "  Georgics"  is  an  exquisite  and  most  elabo- 
rate poem,  treating  upon  Agriculture,  and  one  that  greatly  interested 
the  Emperor  Augustus.  In  allusion  to  this,  his  most  finished  produc- 
tion, and  to  his  Eclogues,  or  Pastoral  Poems,  our  author  very  properly 
styles  him  the  rural  poet. 

From  the  time  of  Romulus  (says  Dunlap)  to  that  of  Oajsar,  agriculture 


4:8  SPRING. 

To  wide-imperial  Rome,  in  the  full  height 
Of  elegance  and  taste,  by  Greece  refined. 
In  ancient  times,  the  sacred  plough  employ'd 
The  kings,  and  awful  fathers  of  mankind. 
And  some,  with  whom  compared  your  insect  tribes  60 

Are  but  the  beings  of  a  summer's  day, 
Have  held  the  scale  of  empire,  ruled  the  storm 
Of  mighty  war  ;  then,  with  unwearied  hand, 
Disdaining  little  delicacies,  seized 

The  plough,  and  greatly  independent  lived.  65 

Ye  generous  Britons,  venerate  the  plough ! 


had  been  the  chief  care  of  the  Romans.  Its  operations  were  conducted 
by  the  greatest  statesmen,  and  its  precepts  inculcated  by  the  profound 
est  scholars.  The  long  continuance,  however,  and  cruel  ravages  of  the 
civil  wars,  had  now  occasioned  an  almost  general  desolation.  In  these 
circumstances,  Maecenas  resolved,  if  possible,  to  revive  the  decayed  spirit 
of  agriculture,  to  recall  the  lost  habits  of  peaceful  industry,  and  to  make 
rural  improvement,  as  it  had  been  in  former  times,  the  prevailing  amuse- 
ment among  the  great ;  and  he  wisely  judged  that  no  method  was  so 
likely  to  contribute  to  these  important  objects  as  a  recommendation  of 
agriculture  by  all  the  insinuating  charms  of  poetry.  At  his  suggestion, 
accordingly,  Virgil  commenced  his  Georgics — a  poem  as  remarkable  for 
majesty  and  magnificence  of  diction  as  the  Eclogues  are  for  sweetness 
and  harmony  of  versification. 

60.  And  some,  <fcc. :  Among  other  instances  may  be  mentioned  the 
familiar  one  of  L.  Quintius  Cineinnatus.  who  was  engaged  in  ploughing 
his  own  fields  when  called  to  the  Dictatorship  at  Rome,  and  after  deliv- 
ering his  country  from  great  peril,  and  enjoying  a  great  military  tri- 
umph at  Rome,  in  a  few  days  returned  contentedly  to  the  quiet  of  his 
farm.  American  history  can  produce  many  examples  of  elevation  to 
the  highest  offices  from  the  pursuits  of  agriculture  ;  and  of  a  dignified 
descent,  when  the  term  of  office  had  expired,  to  rural  retirement. 
Washington  is  the  most  illustrious  instance. 

66.    Venerate  the  plough:  In  the  early  and  best  days  of  the  Roman 
•  s  Dr.  Duncan),  the  plough  was  venerated  ;  and  ofti-n  wns  itr 
1   by  consuls  and   iuuivlled   commanders.     While  ceininere< 
its  subsidiary  art-.  i.sed,  the  cultivation  of  the  .-oil  v 

in  every  respect  worthy  of  Roman  dignity  ;  and  hands  that  one  day 
swayed  the  rod  of  empire,  on  the  next  were  guiding  the  plough  in 
some  suburban  farm.  We  see  a  Cincinnatus  and  a  Fabricius,  notwith- 


SPRING. 


4:9 


And  o'er  your  hills  and  long  withdrawing  vales, 
Let  Autumn  spread  his  treasures  to  the  Sun, 
Luxuriant  and  unbounded.     As  the  sea, 
Far  through  his  azui^urbulentjion^in,    tf  70 

Your  empire  owns,  and  from  a  thousand  shores 
Wafts  all  the  pomp  of  life  into  your  ports  ; 
So  with  superior  boon  may  your  rich  soil,  . 
Exuberant  Nature's  better  blessings  pour  \ 
~0'er  every  land,  the  naked  nations  clothe,  I  75 

And  be  th'  exhaustless  granary  of  a  world  j 


INFLUENCE    OF    SPRING    ON    VEGETABLE    MATTER. 

Nor  only  through  the  lenient  air  this  change  ,X 
Delicious  breathes  :  the  penetrative  Sun, 
His  force  deep  darting  to  the  dark  retreat 
Of  vegetation,  sets  the  sJLeaming  Power  y  80 

At  large,  to  wander  o'er  the  verdant  earth, 
In  various  hues  ;  but  chiefly  thee,  gay  green  ! 
Thou  smiling  Nature's  universal  robe  ! 
United  light  and  shade  !  where  the  sight  dwells^ 
With  growing  strength  and  ever  new  delight.  85 

From  the  moist  meadow  to  the  wither'd  hill, 
Led  by  the  breeze,  the  vivid  verdure  runs, 
And  swells  and  deepens  to  the  cherish'd  eye. 


standing  their  warlike  glory,  devoted  to  agriculture,  as  if  it  were  the 
great  business  of  their  lives ;  and  a  Cato  testifying  his  love  of  that  no- 
blest of  the  arts,  by  writing  an  elaborate  treatise  on  rustic  affairs. 

80.  Stcammg  Power  :  This  epithet  is  applied  to  vegetation,  or  the 
principle  of  growth  in  plants  and  trees,  and  is  poetically  represented 
as  wandering  over  the  earth  in  various  lines,  after  its  wintry  confinement 
in  the  frozen  ground.  It  is  difficult  to  determine  why  it  should  be  called 
the  steaming  Power,  unless  from  the  fact  that  it  comes  forth  or  develops 
itself,  under  the  warming  influences  of  the  spring  sun,  in  the  midsi  of 
vapor  and  exhalations  from  the  'earth. 

3 


50  SPRING. 

The  hawthorn  whitens,  and  the  juicy  groves 
Put  forth  their  buds,  unfolding  by  degrees,  90 

Till  the  whole  leafy  forest  stands  displayed, 
In  full  luxuriance,  to  the  sighing  gales  ; 
Where  the  deer  rustle  through  the  twining  brake, 
And  the  birds  sing  conceal'd.     At  once  array'd 
In  all  the  colors  of  the  flushing  year,  95 

By  Nature's  swift  and  secret  working  hand, 
The  garden  flows,  and  fills  the  liberal  air 
With  lavish  fragrance  ;  while  the  promised  fruit 
Lies  yet  a  little  embryo,  unperceived, 

Within  its  crimson  folds.     Now  .from  the  town,  100 

,  cr      Buried  in  smoke,  and  sleep,  and  noisome  damps, 
i^  — • — Qft ..let  Jue-wauder  o'^r.the  dewy  fields, 

Where  freshness  breathes,  and  dash  the  trembling  drops 

From  the  bent  bush,  as  through  the  verdant  maze 

Of  sweetbiiar  hedges  I  pursue  my  walk  ;  105 

Or  taste  the  smell  of  dairy ;  or  ascend 

Some  eminence,  Augusta,  in  thy  plains, 

And  see  the  country,  far  diffused  around, 

IOne  boundless  blush,  one  white-empurpled  shower 
Of  mingled  blossoms  ;  where  the  raptured  eye  110 

Hurries  from  joy  to  joy,  and,  hid  beneath 
The  fair  profusion,  yellow  Autumn  spies 

89.  The  hawthorn :  This  shrub  or  small  tree  is  much  used  for  hedges, 
particularly  in  Great  Britain,  and  adds  greatly  to  the  beauty  of  the 
rural  districts. 

93.  The  twining  brake :  This  is  a  species  of  fern,  delighting  in  a  moist 
soil  and  shady  places.  The  kind  here  referred  to  is  one  that  twists  or 
winds  the  stem  around  neighboring  objects. 

100.  The  town :  Reference  is  probably  made  to  London,  to  which  the 
description  pre-eminently  answers,  and  where,  it  is  well  known,  the  poet 
passed  much  of  his  time  after  he  became  an  author. 

107.  Auausta  :  Some  rural  district,  perhaps,  in  the  vicinity  of  Lon- 
don ;  or  it  may  stand  for  London  itself,  the  ancient  Latin  name  of  which 
was  Augusta  Triuobantum.  The  description  of  the  vernal  scene  pre- 
sented in  the  following  lines  is  exceedingly  graphic. 


SPKING.  51 

If,  brusli'd  from  Russian  wilds,  a  cutting  gale 

Rise  not,  and  scatter  from  his  humid  wings 

The  clammy  mildew;  or,  dry  blowing,  breathe  115 

Untimely  frost ;  before  whose  baleful  blast 

The  full-blown  Spring  through  all  her  foliage  shrinks 

Joyless  and  dead,  a  Avide  dejected  waste.     y_ 

For  oft,  engender'd  by  the  hazy  north,      J\ 

Myriads  on  myriads,  insect  armies  warp  120 

Keen  in  the  poison'd  breeze  ;  and  wasteful  eat, 

Through  buds  and  bark,  into  the  blacken'd  core, 

Their  eager  way.     A  feeble  race  !  yet  oft 

The  sacred  sons  of  vengeance  ;  on  whose  course\ 

Corrosive  Famine  waits,  and  kills  the  year.  I  125 

To  check  this  plague,  the  skilful  farmer  chaff, 

And  blazing  straw  before  his  orchard  burns  ; 

Till,  all  involved  in  smoke,  the  latent  foe 

From  every  cranny  suffocated  falls  : 

Or  scatters  o'er  the  blooms  the  pungent  dust~  130 

Of  pepper,  fatal  to  the  frosty  tribe  : 

Or,  when  th'  envenom'd  leaf  begins  to  curl 

With  sprinkled  water  drowns  them  in  their  aest : 

Nor,  while  they  pick  them  up  with  busy  b>ll, 

The  little  trooping  birds  unwisely  scares.  135 


120.   Warp :  Thus  Milton— 

"A  pitchy  cloud 
Of  locusts  warping  on  the  eastern  wind."— Par.  Zosf,  Bk.  i.,  340. 

124.  Sacred  sons  of  vengeance:  Insects,  by  their  vast  numbers 
and  voracity,  often  make  dreadful  havoc  on  the  fruits  and  foliage,  such 
as  not  unfrequently  has  produced  the  calamity  of  famine  and  of  pesti- 
lence. Sacred  History  supplies  many  instances  in  which  the  insect 
tribes  have  been  made  the  instruments  of  Divine  Providence  in  chas- 
tising guilty  nations  for  their  immoralities  and  idolatry.  Secular  history 
is  also  full  of  similar  examples,  in  which  the  insect  races  have  been  con- 
stituted the  "  sacred  sons  of  vengeance." 

135.  The  important  offices  performed  by  little  birds  in  devouring  de- 
structive insects  deserve  remark ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be 
observed,  that  various  kinds  of  insects  render  service  to  man  by  the 


5$  SPRING. 

Be  patient,  swains  ;  these  cruel-seeming  winds 
Blow  not  in  vain.     Far  hence  they  keep  repress'd 
Those  deep'ning  clouds  on  clouds,  surcharged  with  rain, 
That,  o'er  the  vast  Atlantic  hither  borne 
In  endless  train,  would  quench  the  summer  blaze,  140 

And,  cheerless,  drown  the  crude  unripen'd  year. 

tThe  north-east  spends  his  rage  ;  he  now  shut  up 
ithin  his  iron  cave,  th'  effusive  south 
arms  the  wide  air,  and  o'er  the  void  of  heaven 
eathes  the  big  clouds,  with  vernalj^ojEers  distent.     145 
As  first,  a  dusky  wreath  they  seem  to  rise, 
Scarce  staining  ether ;  but,  by  swift  degrees, 
In  heaps  on  heaps,  the  doublingvapor  sails 

I  Along  the  loaded  sky,  and  mingling  deep 
Sits  on  the  horizon  round  a  settled  gloom :  150 

\Not  such  as  wintry  storms  on  mortals  shed, 
Oppressing  life  ;  but  lovely,  gentle,  kind, 
And  full  $f  every  hope  and  every  joy, 
Thg  wish  of  Nature.     Gradual  sinks  the  breeze 
Into  a  perfect  calm  ;  that  not  a  breath  155 

A  Is  heard  to  quiver  through  the  closing  woods, 
I   Or  rustling 'turn  the  many-twinkling  leaves 
Of  aspen  tall.     Th*  uncurling  floods,  diffused 
In  glassy  breadth,  seem  through  delusive  lapse 
Forgetful  of  their  course.     'Tis  silence  all,  160 

And  pleasing  expectation.     Herds  and  flocks 


removal  of  decomposing  substances  that  would  poison  the  air  and  in- 
duce diseases.  As  an  example  of  the  capacity  which  some  possess  for 
such  a  service,  it  is  said  that,  as  a  consequence  of  individual  voracity  and 
rapid  increase  of  numbers,  three  flesh-flies  and  their  immediate  progeny, 
according  to  a  calculation  made  by  Linnaeus,  are  able  to  devour  the  car- 
cass of  a  horse  in  less  time  than  a  lion  could  do  it.  It  may  be  added, 
that  a  check  is  happily  put  upon  the  excessive  multiplication  of  insects, 
by  the  attacks  made  upon  them  by  other  tribes  of  animals,  and  by  their 
wars  upon  their  own  tribes. 


n 


SPKING.  53 

Drop  the  dry  sprig,  and  jnrute  imploring  eye^ 
The  falling  verdure.     Hush'd  in  short  suspense, 
The  plumy  people  streak  their  wings  with  oil, 
To  throw  the  lucid  moisture  trickling  off ; 
And  wait  th'  approachiig  sign  to  strike,  at  once. 
Into  the  generaJLchoir.)  Even  mountains,  vales, ' 


Torests  seem  impatient  to  demand 

i    The  promised  sweetness.     Man  superior  walks  ^ 

Amid  the  glad  creation,  musingr  praise,  170 

And  looking  lively  gratitude.     At  last, 
The  clouds  consign  their  treasures  to  the  fields  ; 
And,  softly  shaking  on  the  dimpled  pool 

^.  Prelusive  drops,  let  all  their  moisture  flow, 

In  large  effusion,  o'er  the  freshen'd  world.  175 

The  stealing  shower  is  scarce  to  patter  heard  | 
By  such  as  wander  through  the  forest  walks,  1 

x>*   Beneath  th'  umbrageous  multitude  of  leaves.  \ 

But  who  can  hold  the  shade,  while  Heaven  descends 

In  universal  bounty,  shedding  herbs  180 

And  fruits  and  flowers  on  Nature's  ample  lap  ? 

Swift  Fancy  fired  anticipates  their  growth  ; 

And,  while  the  milky  nutriment  distils, 

Beholds  the  kindling  country  color  round. 

Thus,  all  day  long,  the  full-distended  clouds  185 

Indulge  their  genial  stores,  and  well-shower'd  earth 

Is  deep  enrich'd  with  vegetable  life ; 

Till,  in  the  western  sky,  the  downward  sun 

.^    Looks  outy^ffulgent,  from  amid  the  flush 

Of  broken  clouds,  gay-shifting  to  his  beam.  190 

The  rapid  radiance  instantaneous  strikes 

Th'  illumined  mountain,  through  the  forest  streams, 

167-184.  Rain  is  now  required  to  help  the  quickening  fruits,  and  tl** 
poet  paints,  with  singular  beauty,  the  birds  in  the  wood,  the  cattle  on 
the  hill,  and  the  thirsty  fields  themselves,  desiring  the  fall  of  the  now 
gathering  shower.— -C. 


SPEIXG. 

Shakes  on  the  floods,  and  in  a  yellow  mist, 

Far  smoking  o'er  th?  interminable  plain, 

In  twinkling  myriads  lights  the  dewy  gems.  195 

Moist,  bright,  and  green,  the  landscape  laughs  around. 

Full  swell  the  woods  :  their  very  music  wakes, 

Mix'd  in  wild  concert  with  the  warbling  brooks 

Increased,  the  distant  bleatings  of  the  hills, 

And  hollow  lows  responsive  from  the  vales  ;  200 

Whence  blending  ail,  the  sweeten'd  zephyr  springs. 

Meantime,  refracted  from  yon  eastern  cloud, 

Bestriding  earth,  the  grand  ethereal  bow 

Shoots  up  immense  ;  and  every  hue  unfolds, 

In  fair  proportion  running  from  the  red  205 

To  where  the  violet  fades  into  the  sky. 

.Here,  awful  Newton,  the  dissolving  clouds 

'orm,  fronting  on  the  sun,  thy  shrjwery  prism  ; 

.nd  to  the  sage-instructed  eye  unfold    * 

lie  various  twine  of  light,  by  thee  disclosed  210 

om  the  white  mingling  maze.     Not  so  the  boy  : 
wondering  views  the  bright  enchantment  bend 
lightful  o'er  the  radiant  fields,  and  runs 
catch  the  falling  glory  ;  but  amazed, 


207.  Awful  Xcwton :  So  called  from  the  uncommon  respect  which  liis 
great  talents  and  discoveries  command  and  inspire.  The  fact  that  white 
light  is  not  simple,  but  compounded  of  seven  colors,  he  verified  by  means 
of  a  glass  prism  :  he  resolved  the  various  twine,  or  twist,  or  combination 
of  the  rays  that  compose  white  light — the  white  commingling  maze. 
The  prism  of  nature  is  the  falling  shower,  the  dissolving  clouds,  acting 
upon  which,  the  sun  produces  the  magnificent  spectrum  of  the  Rainbow. 
The  speculations  of  the  uneducated  boy  upon  this  brilliant  phenomenon 
are  finely  described.  Later  philosophers  have  shown  that  the  seven 
colors  are  modifications  of  three  primary  colors,  red,  yellow,  and  blue. 

Among  the  smaller  poems  of  Thomson  is  one  composed  in  memory 
of  this  great  English  philosopher,  in  the  preparation  of  which  his  friend 
Gray  is  said  to  have  furnished  him  with  such  an  account  of  the  Newto- 
nian philosophy  as  guarded  him  against  error  in  his  treatment  of  the 
subject. 


es, 


, 

2"20 


SPRING.  55 

S- Beholds  th^amusivc  arch  before  him  fly,  215 

Then  vanish  quite  away.     Still  night  succeeds, 
A  soften'd  shade,  and  saturated  earth 
Awaits  the  morning  beam,  to  give  to  light, 
Raised  through  ten  thousand  different  plastic  tu 
The  balmy  treasures  of  the  former  day. 

Then  spring  the  living  herbs,  profusely  wild, 
O'er  all  the  deep-green  earth,  beyond  the  power 
Of  botanist  to  number  up  their  tribes  ; 
Whether  he  steals  along  the  lonely  dale, 
In  silent  search  ;  or,  through  the  forest,  rank  225 

With  what  th£  dull  incuri^nH  Tr^Hs~a£&2ant,  1 
Bursts  his  blind  way ;  or  climbs  the  mountain  rock, 
Fired  by  the  nodding  verdure  of  its  brow. 
With  such  a  liberal  hand  has  Nature  flung 
Their  seeds  abroad,  blown  them  about  in  winds,  230 

Innumerous  mix'd  them  with  the  nursing  mould, 
The  moistening  current,  and  prolific  rain. 

But  who,  their  virtues  can  declare  ?  who  pierce, 
With  vision  pure,  into  these  secret  stores 
Of  health  and  life  and  joy  ?  the  food  of  man,  j  235 

While  yet  he  lived  in  innocence,  and  told  /          .      s^u 

A  length  of  golden  years  ;  unflesh'd  in  blood, 
A  stranger  to  the  savage  arts  of  life, 
t)eath,  rapine,  carnage,  surfeit,  and  disease ; 
The  lord,  and  not  the  tyrant,  of  the  world. 


240 


225-6.  The  forest  rank  with,  <fcc.:  That  is,  filled  luxuriantly  with  what 
dull,  incurious  persons  account  as  weeds. 

233.  Their  virtues:  The  virtues,  or  valuable  properties  and  uses,  of  the 
various  families  of  herbs  previously  alluded  to. 

237.  UnflesKd  in  blood:  Not  accustomed  to  the  use  of  blood.  The 
term  is  taken  from  the  dialect  of  sportsmen,  who  are  in  the  practice  of 
training  dogs  or  hawks  to  the  business  they  pursue,  by  feeding  them  with 
the  game  they  take,  or  other  flesh.  That  this  is  the  meaning  put  upon 
the  expression  by  our  author,  is  plain  from  what  follows. 


56  SPKING. 


A 


THE    GOLDEN  AGE*    OR    MAN    IN    A    STATE    OF    INNOCENCE. 


/  The  first  fresh  dawn  then  waked  the  gladden'd  race 

A\jfM3f  uncorrupted  man,  nor  blush'd  to  see 
V^      The  sluggard  sleep  beneath  its  sacred  beam ; 

For  their  light  slumbers  gently  fumed  away, 

And  up  they  rose  as  vigorous  as  the  sun,  245 

Or  to  the  culture  of  the  willing  glebe, 

Or  to  the  cheerful  tendance  of  the  flock. 

Meantime  the  song  went  round  ;  and  dance  and  sport, 

Wisdom  and  friendly  talk,  successive,  stole 

Their  hours  away  ;  while  in  the  rosy  vale  250 

Love  breathed  his  infant  sighs,  from  anguish  free, 

And  full  replete  with  bliss  ;  save  the  sweet  pain, 

That,  inly  thrilling,  but  exalts  it  more. 

Nor  yet  injurious  act,  nor  surly  deed, 

Was  known  among  those  happy  sons  of  Heaven  ;  255 

For  reason  and, .benevolence  were  law. 

Harmonious  Nature  too  look'd  smiling  on ; 

Clear  shone  the  skies,  cool'd  with  eternal  gales, 

And  balmy  spirit  all.     The  youthful  sun 

Shot  his  best  rays,  and  still  the  gracious  clouds  260 

Dropp'd  fatness  down ;  as  o'er  the  swelling  mead, 

244.  Their  light  slumbers  gently  fumed,  exhaled  away,  or  came  to  an 
easy  and  gradual  termination.  We  are  here  reminded  of  the  slumbers 
of  Adam  and  Eve,  while  yet  innocent,  as  described  by  Milton,  at  the 
opening  of  Book  V.  of  the  Paradise  Lost. 

Now  morn  her  rosy  steps  in  th'  eastern  clime 

Advancing,  sow'd  the  earth  with  orient  pearl, 

When  Adam  waked,  so  custom' d ;  for  his  sleep 

Was  aery  light,  from  pure  digestion  bred 

And  temp'rate  vapors  bland,  which  th'  only  sound 

Of  leaves  and  fuming  rills,  Aurora's  fan, 

Lightly  dispersed,  and  the  shrill  matin  song 

Of  birds  on  every  bough. 

261.  Dropped  fatness  down  :  A  beautiful  expression,  borrowed  from  the 
Hebrew  bard,  and  indicating  the  fertilizing  influences  of  the  clouds,  or  01 
the  rains  they  let  fall  upon  the  earth.  The  reader  is  referred  to  Psalm 
Ixv.  9-12. 


SPKING.  57 

The  herds  and  flocks,  commixing,  play'd  secure. 

This  when,  emergent  from  the  gloomy  wood, 

The  glaring  lion  saw,  his  horridjiejirt 

Was  meeken'd,  and  he  join'd  his  sullen  joy  ;  265 

For  music  held  the  whole  in  perfect  peace : 

Soft  sigh'd  the  flute  ;  the  tender  voice  was  heard, 

Warbling  the  variedjieart  •  the  woodlands  round 

Applied  their  choir  ;  and  winds  and  waters  flow'd 

In  consonance.     Such  were  those  prime  of  days.  270 


THE    IRON    AGE  \    OR    MAN    IN    A    STATE    OF    DEFRAY 


But  now  those  white  unblemish'd  manners,  whence 
The  fabling  poets  took  their  Golden  Age, 
Are  found  no  more  amid  these  Iron  Times, 
These  dregs  of  life  !  Now  the  distempered  mind  ! 
Has  lostthat  concord  of  harmoTvi™1-^  pnwpraj        ,     .       215 
I     Which  forms  the  soul  of  Jiappiaitss  ;  and  *all      /  O***<z+A~J 
Is  offjhe  poise  within  :  the  passions  all 
Have  burst  their  bounds  ;  arid  reason,  half  extinct, 
I    Or  impotent,  or  else  approving,  sees 

j    The  foul  disorder.     Senseless,  and  deform'd,  /  280 

Convulsive  Anger  storms  at  large  ;  or,  pale 
And  silent,  settles  into  fell  revenge. 
Base  Envy  withers  at  another's  joy, 
And  hates  that  excellence  it  cannot  reach. 

Desponding  Fear,  of  feeble  fancies  full, ^  285 

Weak  and  unmanly,  loosens  every  power. 

g'en  Love  itself  is  bitterness  of  soul,      I 

A  pensive  anguish  pining  at  the  heart ;  | 

Or,  sunk  to  sordid  interests,  feels  no  more 

That  noble  wish,  that  never  cloy'd  desire,  29C 

Which  selfish  joy  disdaining,  seeks  alone 

270.  Prime,  or  first,  of  days :  Prime  is  a  favorite  expression  of  Milton, 


58  SPRING. 

|  To  bless  the  dearer  object  of  its  flame. 
X^  Hope  sickens  with  extravagance  ;  and  Grief, 

^       Of  life  impatient,  into  Madness  swells  ; 

Or  in  dead  silence,  wastes  the  weeping  hours.  295 

These,  and  a  thousand  mix'd  emotions  more, 
From  everjslmn^mgjviews  .of_g.QQ.d.  3&dJU 

^/         Form'd  infinitely  various,  vex  the, mind 

With  endless  storm  ;  whence,  deeply  rankling  grows 

The  partial  thought,  a  listless  unconcern,  300 

Cold,  and  averting  from  our  neighbor's  good  ; 

Then  dark  Disgust,  and  Hatred,  winding  wiles, 

Coward  Deceit,  and  ruffian  violence. 

At  last,  extinct  each  social  feeling,  fell 

And  joyless  Inhumanity  pervades  305 

I/        And  petrifies  the  heart.     Xature  disturbed 

Is  deem'd  vindictive,  to  have  changed  her  course. 

Hence,  in  old  dusky  time,  a  deluge  came ; 
When  the  deep-cleft  disparting  orb,  that  arch'd 
The  central  waters  round,  impetuous  rush'd,  310 

With  universal  burst,  into  the  gulf, 
And  o'er  the  high-piled  hills  of  fractured  earth 
Wide  dash'd  the  waves,  in  undulation  vast ; 
Till,  from  the  centre  to  the  streaming  clouds, 
A  shoreless  ocean  tumbled  round  the  globe.  315 


309-15.  This  passage  will  not  bear  a  critical  examination,  though  its 
general  import  may  be  easily  comprehended.  By  deep-cleft  disparting 
orb  the  author  means  the  external  shell  or  crust  of  the  earth  separating 
in  deep  fissures,  and  thus  affording  a  passage  to  the  central  waters  which 
he  supposes  to  occupy  the' whole  interior  of  the  globe.  The  rush  of  wa- 
ters elevates  certain  portions  of  the  fractured  earth,  forming  high-piled 
hills,  over  which  dash'd  the  waves  on  a  stupendous  scale,  so  that  from  the 
centre  of  the  earth  to  the  very  clouds  a  wide  and  deep  waste  of  waters 
was  formed.  He  represents  the  disparting  orb  as  rushing,  or  moving  for- 
ward, impetuously  into  the  gulf,  or  ocean  beds.  We  must  consider  him 
as  meaning  ihat  the  waters  from  the  disparted  orb,  and  not  the  orb  itself 
rushed  into  the  gul£ 


SPRING.  Oil 

CHANGES    CONSEQUENT    UPON    THE    DELUGE. 

The  Seasons  since  have,  with  severer  sway, 
Oppress'd  a  broken  world  :  the  Winter  keen 
Shook  forth  his  waste  of  snows  ;  and  Summer  shot 
His  pestilential  heats.     Great  Spring,  before, 
Green'd  all  the  year ;  and  fruits  and  blossoms  blush'd,    320 
In  social  sweetness,  on  the  self-same  bough. 
Pure  was  the  temperate  air  ;  an  even  calm  / 

Perpetual  reign'd,  save  what  the  zephyrs  bland  %          AlJXx^. 
"Rrpat.^pfl  nW  |]if>.  hlnp.  expanse  ;  for  then  nor  storms 
Were  taught  to  blow,  nor  hurricanes  to  rage.  325 

Sound  slept  the  waters  ;  no  sulphureous  glooms 
S well'd  in  the  sky,  and  sent  the  lightning  forth ; 
While  sickly  damps,  and  cold  autumnal  fogs, 
Hung  not,  relaxing,  on  the  springs  of  life. 
But  now,  of  turbid  elements  the  sport,  330 

From  clear  to  cloudy  toss'd,  from  hot  to  cold, 
And  dry  to  moist,  with  inward-eating  change, 
Our  drooping  days  are  dwindled  down  to  naught, 
Their  period  finish'd  ere  'tis  well  begun.  > 


CENSURE    UPON    THE    USE    OF    ANIMAL    FOOD. 


And  yet  the  wholesome  herb  neglected  dies ;  335 

Though  with  the  pure  exhilarating  soul 
Of  nutriment  and  health  and  vital  powers, 
Beyond  the  search  of  art,  'tis  copious  bless'd. 
For,  with  hot  ravine  fired,  ensanguined  man 

333.  Dwindled  down,  &c. :  A  satisfactory  reason  can  be  given  for  this 
physical  change.  The  longevity  of  the  antediluvians  led  to  that  enor- 
mous wickedness,  on  account  of  which  they  were  swept  from  the  earth. 
The  great  abbreviation  of  the  period  of  human  life  since  the  deluge,  and 
the  uncertainty  of  reaching  even  that  moderate  limit,  greatly  tend  to  pre- 
vent maturity  in  crime,  and  to  awaken  a  becoming  regard  to  our  religioua 
interests,  and  to  our  condition  in  a  future  world. 


60 


SPUING. 


Is  now  become  the  lion  of  the  plain,      >  340 

And  worse.     The  wolf,  who  from  the  nightly  fold 

Fierce  drags  the  bleating  prey,  ne'er  drunk  her  milk, 

Nor  wore  her  warming  fleece  ;  nor  has  the  steer, 

At  whose  strong  chest  the  deadly  tiger  hangs, 

E'er  plough'd  for  him.     They  too  are  temper'd  high,     345 

With  hunger  stung  and  wild  necessity  j 

Nor  lodges  pity  in  their  shaggy  breast. 

But  Man,  whom  Nature  form'd  of  milder  clay^ 

With  every  kind  emotion  in  his  heart,  ^^£"~ 

And  taught  alone  to  weep  ;  while  from  her  lap       \       350 

She  pours  ten  thousand  delicacies,  herbs, 

And  fruits,  as  numerous  as  the  drops  of  rain 

Or  beams  that  gave  them  birth  ;  shall  he,  fair  form  ! 

Who  wears  sweet  smiles,  and  looks  erect  on  heaven, 

E'er  stoop  to  mingle  with  the  prowling  herd,  355 

And  dip  his  tongue  in  gore  ?     The  beast  of  prey, 

Blood-stain'd,  deserves  to  bleed  ;  but  you,  ye  flocks, 

What  have  you  done  ;  ye  peaceful  people,  what, 

To  merit  death  ?  you,  who  have  given  us  milk 

In  luscious  streams,  and  lent  us  your  own  coat  360 

'Against  the  Winter's  cold  ?     And  the  plain  ox, 

That  harmless,  honest,  guileless  animal, 

In  what  has  he  offended  ?     He,  whose  toil, 

Patient,  and  ever  ready,  clothes  the  land 

With  all  the  pomp  of  harvest  ;  shall  he  bleed,  365 

And  struggling  groan  beneath  the  cruel  hands 

E'en  of  the  clown  he  feeds  ?  and  that,  perhaps, 

To  swell  the  riot  of  th'  autumnal  feast, 

Won  by  his  labor  ?     Thus  the  feeling  heart 

Would  tenderly  suggest  ;  but  'tis  enough,  3*70 

In  this  late  age,  adventurous,  to  have  touch'd 

Light  on  the  numbers  of  the  Samian  sage. 

372.  Samian  sage  :  The  wise  man  of  Samos  —  Pythagoras.     He  is  said 
to  have  invented  the  term  philosopher  (lover  of  wisdom),  and  to  have  as- 


SJPftENG. 


61 


High  Heav.su  forbids  the  bold  presumptuous  strain, 
Whose  wisest  will  has  fix'd  us  in  a  state,  iS 

That  must  not  yet  to  pure  perfection  rise.  375 


TROUT-FISHING. 

Now,  when  the  first  foul  torrent  of  the  brooks, 
S weird  with  the  vemal^rains,  is  ebb'd  away, 
And,  whitening,  down  their  mossy-tinctured  stream 
Descends  the  billowy  foam  ;  now  is  the  time, 
While  yet  the  dark-brown  water  aids  the  guile,  380 

To  tempt  the  trout.     The  well  dissembled  fly,  1 
^      The  rod  fine-tapering  with  elastic  spring,  1 

Snatch'd  from  the  hoary  steed  the  floating  linej  • 
And  all  thy  slender  watery  stores,  prepare. 
7/'  But  let  not  on  thy  hook  the  tortured  worm  4 .  385 

\  Convulsive  twist  in  agonizing  folds  ;  »  % 

/*  Which,  by  rapacious  hunger  swallow'd  deep, 
Gives,  as  you  tear  it  from  the  bleeding  breast,.      . 
Of  the  weak,  helpless,  uncomplaining  wretch,    wf  \ 
Harsh  pain  and  horror  to  the  tender  hand.        *  390 

When  with  his  lively  ray  the  potent  Sun 
Has  pierced  the  streams,  and  roused  the  finny  race,  s 

Burned  it  as  descriptive  of  himself.  He  was  a  great  traveller  in  search  of 
knowledge,  and  finally  settled  at  Orotona  in  the  southern  part  of  Italy, 
where  he  gathered  around  him  a  large  number  of  young  men  of  noble 
birth,  and  instructed  them  in  the  tenets  of  his  philosophy.  He  is  here 
referred  to  by  Thomson,  because  it  was  a  principle  of  the  Pythagorean 
system  to  abstain  from  the  use  of  animal  food  ;  and  this  was  based  upon 
the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls,  that  is,  the  migration  of  the 
human  soul  through  the  bodies  of  various  animals  successively.  This  doc- 
trine still  prevails  extensively  in  Asia. 

The  mww&ers  of  the  Saraian  sage  are  probably  the  "  Golden  Verses'" 
attributed  to  him,  but  written  probably  by  some  other  hand.  They  con 
tained  a  brief  summary  of  his  popular  doctrines.  To  music,  both  as  a 
science  and  an  art,  Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  given  special  and  successful 
attention. 


62  SPKING. 

Then,  issuing  cheerful,  to  thy  sport  repair. 
JT  Chief  should  the  western  breezes  curling  play, 
X  I     And  light  o'er  ether  bear  the  shadowy  clouds.  395 

^f*^  VHigh  to  their  fount,  this  day,  amid  the  hills, 
f  ,Y\    And  woodlands  warbling  round,  trace  up  the  brooks  ; 
V*         The  next,  pursue  their  rocky-channel'd  maze 
Down  to  the  river,  in  whose  ample  wave 
Their  little  Naiads  love  to  sport  at  large.  400 

Just  in  the  dubious  point,  where  with  the  pool 
Is  mix'd  the  trembling  stream,  or  where  it  boils 
Around  the  stone,  or  from  the  hollow'd  bank 
Reverted  plays  in  undulating  flow  ; 

There  throw,  nice  judging,  the  delusive  fly  ;  405 

And,  as  you  lead  it  round  in  artful  curve, 
With  eye  attentive  mark  the  springing  game. 
Straight  as  above  the  surface  of  the  flood 
They  wanton  rise,  or  urged  by  hunger  leap, 
:  Then  fix,  with  gentle  twitch,  the  barbed  hook  ;  410 

Some  lightly  tossing  to  the  grassy  bank, 
And  to  the  shelving  shore  slow  dragging  some, 
With  various  hand  proportion'd  to  their  force. 
If  yet  too  young,  and  easily  deceived, 

1A  worthless  prey  scarce  bends  your  pliant  rod,  415 

Him,  piteous  of  his  youth  and  the  short  space  ,-J  *{, 

^    He  has  enjoy'd  the  vital  light  of  heaven,  C^A  , 

I  y^  Soft  disengage,  and  back  into  the  stream  ^  v)  Jfrr 

^»  ..  The  speckled  captive  throw.     But  should  you  lure 
jW'      From  his  dark  haunt,  beneath  the  tangled  roots  —       420 
*  I      Of  pendent  trees,  the  monarch  of  the  brook, 
Behooves  you  then  to  ply  your  finest  art. 
Long  time  he,  following  cautious,  scans  the  fly  ; 
And  oft  attempts  to  seize  it,  but  as  oft 

400.  Naiads  :  Certain  imaginary  female  deities  (of  the  Grecian  and  Ro- 
man Mythology)  that  were  fancied  to  preside  over  fountains,  streams, 
and  seas. 


SPRING.  Od 

The  dimpled  water  speaks  his  jealous  ^gar.  425 

At  last,  while  haply  o'er  the  shaded  sun      «•• 

Passes  a  cloud,  he  desperate  takes  the  death, 

With  sullen  plunge.     At  once  he  darts  along 

Deep-struck,  and  runs  out  all  the  lengthen'd  line ; 

Then  seeks  the  furthest  ooze,  the  sheltering  weed,          430 

The  cavern'd  bank,  his  old  secure  abode ; 

And  flies  aloft,  and  flounces  round  the  pool, 

Indignant  of  the  guile.     With  yielding  hand, 

That  feels  him  still,  yet  to  his  furious  course 

Gives  way,  you,  now  retiring,  following  now  435 

Across  the  stream,  exhaust  his  idle  rage ; 

Till,  floating  broad  upon  his  breathless  side, 

And  to  his  fate  abandon'd,  to  the  shore 

You  gayly  drag  your  unresisting  prize. 

NOON-DAY    RECREATIONS. 

Thus  pass  the  temperate  hours ;  but  when  the  sun     440 
Shakes  from  his  noonday  throne  the  scattering  clouds, 
E'en  shooting  listless  languor  through  the  deeps  ; 
Then  seek  the  bank  where  flowering  elders  crowd, 
Where,  scattered  wild,  the  lily  of  the  vale 
Its  balmy  essence  breathes,  where  cowslips  hang  445 

The  dewy  head,  where  purple  violets  lurk, 
With  all  the  lowly  children  of  the  shade  ; 
Or  lie  reclined  beneath  yon  spreading  ash, 
Hung  o'er  the  steep  ;  whence,  borne  on  liquid  wing, 
The  sounding  culver  shoots  ;  or  where  the  hawk,  450 

High  in  the  beetling  cliff,  his  eyry  builds. 
There  let  the  classic  page  thy  fancy  lead  ^/ 

Through  rural  scenes  ;  such  as  the  Mantuan  swain 

427.  The  death  :  That  which  causes  death — the  hook. 
450.  The  culver  :  The  wood-pigeon. 

453.  Mantuan  swain:  Virgil,  whose  Pastoral  songs  (the  Eclogues)  are 
here  deservedly  commended  for  their  harmonious  numbers. 


G4:  SPUING. 

Paints  in  the  matchless  harmony  of  song  ; 

Or  catch  thyseif  the  landscape,  gliding  swift  455 

Athwart  Imagination's  vivid  eye  ; 

Or,  by  the  vocal  woods  and  waters  lulled, 

And  lost  in  lonely  musing,  in  the  dream, 

tonfused,  of  careless  solitude,  where  mix 

Ten  thousand  wandering  images  of  things,  460 

Soothe  every  gust  of  passion  into  peace  ; 

All  but  the  swellings  of  the  soften'd  heart, 

That  weaken,  not  disturb,  the  tranquil  mind. 

Behold  yon  breathing  prospect  bids  the  Muse 
Throw  all  her  beauty  forth.     But  who  can  paint  465 

Like  Nature  ?     Can  Imagination  boast, 
Amid  its  gay  creation,  hues  like  hers  ? 
Or  can  it  mix  them  with  that  matchless  skill, 
And  lose  them  in  each  other,  as  appears 
In  every  bud  that  blows  ?     If  fancy  then  470 

Unequal  fails  beneath  the  pleasing  task, 
Ah,  what  shall  language  do  ?     Ah,  where  find  words 
Tinged  with  so  many  colors  ;  and  whose  power, 
To  life  approaching,  may  perfume  my  lays 
With  that  fine  oil,  those  aromatic  gales,  475 

\  That  inexhaustive  flow  continual  round  ? 

Yet,  though  successless,  will  the  toil  delight. 
Come  then,  ye  virgins  and  ye  youths,  whose  hearts 
Have  felt  the  raptures  of  refining  love ; 
And  thou,  Amanda,  come,  pride  of  my  song  !  480 

465-476.  Amid  the  growing  freshness  and  increasing  beauty  of  the 
land,  the  poet  walks  to  select  a  scene,  the  loveliest  he  can  find,  on  which 
to  lay  out  the  choicest  colors  of  the  Muse.  He  feels,  as  he  gazes,  how 
difficult  it  is  to  limn  in  words  the  varying  splendor  of  the  Spring,  and  ex- 
claims— "  But  who  can  paint  like  Nature  ?"  cfec. — C. 

480.  Amanda :  This  lady  was  Miss  Elizabeth  Young,  whom  Thomson 
greatly  desired  to  marry  ;  hut  he  conceived  himself  not  warranted  in  of- 
fering his  hand,  from  the  scantiness  of  his  income.  She  became  the  wife 
of  Vice  Admiral  John  Campbell.  Thomson  writes  of  her,  as  will  be  ob- 


SPRING.  65 

Form'd  by  the  Graces,  loveliness  itself : 

Come  with  those  downcast  eyes,  sedate  and  sweet, 

Those  looks  demure,  that  deeply  pierce  the  soul, 

Where,  with  the  light  of  thoughtful  reason  mix'd, 

Shines  lively  fancy  and  the  feeling  heart.  485 

Oh,  come !  and  while  the  rosy-footed  May 


served,  with  the  greatest  ardor  of  affection.  She  is  said  to  have  heen 
the  only  woman  to  whom  he  was  known  to  be  attached,  and  as  she  was 
possessed  of  very  superior  endowments,  his  disappointment  in  obtaining 
her  greatly  diminished  his  enjoyment  of  life.  In  a  letter  to  his  sister  in 
1747,  dated  at  Hagley,  Worcestershire,  he  thus  writes  on  this  subject: — 
"  My  circumstances  have  hitherto  been  so  variable  and  uncertain  in  this 
fluctuating  world  as  induce  to  keep  me  from  engaging  in  such  a  state  ; 
and  now,  though  they  are  more  settled,  and  of  late  considerably  improved, 
I  begin  to  think  myself  too  far  advanced  in  life  for  such  youthful  under- 
takings, not  to  mention  some  other  petty  reasons  that  are  apt  to  startle 
the  delicacy  of  difficult  old  bachelors.  I  am,  however,  not  a  little  suspi- 
cious that,  were  I  to  pay  a  visit  to  Scotland,  I  might  possibly  be  tempted 
to  think  of  a  thing  not  easily  repaired  if  done  amiss." 

481.  The  Graces :  In  the  Grecian  Mythology  these  are  described  as 
three  young  and  beautiful  sisters,  the  companions  of  Venus,  the  goddess 
of  Beauty.  They  were  (as  Anthon  remarks)  an  aesthetic  conception  of 
all  that  is  beautiful  and  attractive  in  the  physical  as  well  as  in  the  social 
world.  The  Graces  were  at  all  times,  in  the  creed  of  Greece,  the  god- 
desses presiding  over  social  enjoyment,  the  banquet,  the  dance,  and  all 
that  tended  to  inspire  gayety  and  cheerfulness. 

To  these,  according  to  Thomson's  poetical  conception,  his  Amanda  was 
indebted  for  her  surpassing  loveliness.  Milton,  in  his  Allegro,  has  intro- 
duced them  in  a  very  lively  strain. 

486.  Rosy-footed  May:  A  beautiful  personification  of  this  favorite 
spring  month.  The  epithet  applied  is  obviously  appropriate  to  the  month 
as  productive  of  roses.  The  first  day  of  this  month  has  long  been  cele- 
brated in  England  with  great  festivity  and  mirth — the  observance  owing 
its  origin,  as  is  thought,  to  the  heathen  entertainments  practised  in  honor 
of  the  goddess  Flora.  The  Druids  on  the  eve  of  May-day  were  accus- 
tomed to  illuminate  the  hill-tops  of  Britain  in  demonstration  of  their  grat- 
itude and  joy  for  the  return  of  Spring  in  its  maturity.  Subsequently 
all  classes  in  England  have  participated  in  the  sports  appropriated  to 
May-day,  when,  in  the  language  of  old  Chaucer,  "  forth  goeth  all  the  court, 
most  and  least,  to  fetch  the  flowres  fresh,  and  braunch  and  broom."  In 
this  diversion  Henry  VIII.  and  Katharine,  and  the  entire  court,  engaged 
with  high  glee. 


SPRING. 


Steals  blushing  on,  together  let  us  tread 
The  morning  dews,  and  gather  in  their  prime 
Fresh-blooming  flowers,  to  grace  thy  braided  hair, 
And  thy  loved  bosom  that  improves  their  sweets.  490 


THE    WINDING    AND    WATERED    VALE.  G^ 

See,  where  the  winding  vale  its  lavish  stores, 
jJrTTpmfflTg,  spreads.     See,  how  the  lily  drinks 
The  latent  rill,  scarce  oozing  through  the  grass, 
v^      Of  growth  luxuriant ;  or  the  humid  bank, 

In  fair  profusion,  decks.     Long  let  us  walk,  495 

Where  the  breeze  blows  from  yon  extended  field 

Of  blossom'd  beans.     Arabia  cannot  boast 

A  fuller  gale  of  joy,  than  liberal  thence 

Breathes  through  the  sense,  and  takes  the  ravish'd  soul. 

Nor  is  the  mead  unworthy  of  thy  foot,  500 

Full  of  fresh  verdure  and  unnumbered  flowers, 

The  negligence  of  Nature,  wide  and  wild ; 

Where,  undisguised  by  mimic  art,  sire  spreads 

Unbounded  beauty  to  the  roving  eye. 

Here  their  delicious  task  the  fervent  bees,  505 

In  swarming  millions,  tend.     Around,  athwart, 

Through  the  soft  air,  the  busy  nations  fly,    ^ 

Cling  to  the  bud,  and,  with  inserted  tube,     \ 

Suck  its  pure  essence,  its  ethereal  soul ;       / 

And  oft,  with  bolder  wing,  they  soaring  dare  510 

The  purple  heath,  or  where  the  wild  thyme  grows, 

And  yellow  load  them  with  the  luscious  spoil. 

497.  Arabia,  &c. :  This  country  is  celebrated  for  its  aromatic  pro- 
ductions. 

505-512.  Thomson  was  a  close  observer  of  Nature  :  she  sat  for  every 
picture  he  draws. — C. 

511.  The  purple  heath  :  The  landscapes  of  Scotland  and  England  are 
beautifully  diversified  by  large  tracts  covered  with  this  shrub,  that  bears 
a  very  delicate  purple  flower.  The  leaves  retain  their  verdure  through 


SPRING.  67 


THE    FLOWER-GARDEN. 

At  length  the  finished  garden  to  the  view 
Its  vistas  opens,  and  its  alleys  green. 

Snatch'd  through  the  verdant  maze,  the  hurried  eye       515 
Distracted  wanders  :  now  the  bowery  walk 
Of  covert  close,  where  scarce  a  speck  of  day 
Falls  on  the  lengthened  gloom,  protracted  sweeps ; 
Now  meets  the  bending  sky ;  the  river  now 
Dimpling  along,  the  breezy  ruffled  lake,  520 

The  forest  darkening  round,  the  glittering  spire, 
Th'  ethereal  mountain,  and  the  distant  main. 
But  why  so  far  excursive,?  when  at  hand, 
Along  these  blushing  borders,  bright  with  dew, 
And  in  yon  mingled  wilderness  of  flowers,  525 

Fair-handed  Spring  unbosoms  every  grace  ; 
Throws  out  the  snow-drop  and  the  crocus  first, 
The  daisy,  primrose,  violet  darkly  blue, 


,he  year.  The  shrub  is  made  use  of  for  thatch,  brooms,  beds  for  the  poor, 
md  for  heating  ovens.  Look  now  at  the  heather  (says  Prof.  Wilson),  and 
smile  whenever  henceforth  you  hear  people  talk  of  purple. 

527.  Crocus:  The  first  flower  of  Spring.     The  Scotch  crocus  is  striped 
with  white   and  purple ;    other  varieties  are  striped  with  orange  and 
lark  purple.     An  ancient  fable  is  connected  with  this  flower :  a  youth, 
Orocus,  being  unable  to  marry  a  certain  nymph,  was  said  to  have  pined 
iway,  and  to  have  been  changed  into  the  crocus,  or  saffron,  this  name  be- 
ng  applied  also  to  the  saffron  used  in  medicine,  and  which  blossoms  in 
September. 

528.  The  daisy :  A  favorite   flower  in  Britain.     It  owed,  perhaps,  its 
lame  to  Chaucer,  who  lived  in  the  fourteenth  century.     From  the  pecu- 
iarity  which  this  flower  possesses  of  folding  its  petals  at  sunset,  and  of 
jxpanding  them  at  sunrise,  he  called  it  Daijs-eye.     One  of  Montgomery's 
jretiiest  poems  is  devoted  to  the  daisy  that  sprang  up  unexpectedly  in 
3r.  Carey's  garden,  at  Serampore,  in  India,  out  of  some  English  earth,  in 
which  other  seeds  had  been  conveyed  to  him  from  England.     He  repre- 
sents the  missionary  as  addressing  it  thus  : 

Thrice  welcome,  little  English  flower ' 
My  mother  country's  white  and  red, 


68  SPRING. 

And  polyanthus  of  unnumber'd  dyes  ; 

The  yellow  wallflower,  stain'd  with  iron  brown,  530 

And  lavish  stock  that  scents  the  garden  round ; 

From  the  soft  wing  of  vernal  breezes  shed, 
1  Anemones ;  auriculas,  enrich'd 
'  With  shining  meal  o'er  all  their  velvet  leaves, 

And  full  ranuncula  of  glowing  red.  535 

In  rose  or  lily,  till  this  hour, 

Never  to  me  such  beauty  spread : 

*  *  *  * 

Thrice  welcome,  little  English  flower  I 

"Whose  tribes,  beneath  our  natal  skies 
Shut  close  their  leaves  while  vapors  lower  ; 

But,  when  the  sun's  gay  beams  arise, 
With  unabashed  but  modest  eyes, 

Follow  his  motion  to  the  west, 
Nor  cease  to  gaze  till  daylight  dies, 

Then  fold  themselves  to  rest,  &c. 

The  daisy  is  the  symbol  of  unconscious  beauty ;  while  the  crocus  is  the 
symbol  of  cheerfulness  and  gayety. 

528.  The  primrose  (prime-rose)  is  an  early  rose  of  spring.     In  Flora's 
Dictionary  it  is  the  symbol  of  delight  in  bringing  modest  worth  from  ob- 
scurity.    In  English  history  white  and  red  roses  were  emblems,  respec- 
tively, of  the  rival  families  of  York  and  Lancaster,  in  their  protracted 
contests  for  the  crown. 

The  blue  violet  is  employed  as  an  emblem  of  faithful  friendship :  the 
white,  of  modest  worth. 

529.  The  polyanthos  (so  called  from  its  many  flowers)  is  said  to  be  a 
symbol  of  confidence  in  a  friend.     It  belongs  to  the  Primrose  family :  the 
small  flowers  upon  its  stalk  growing  in  clusters. 

533.  The  atiemoneis  sometimes  seen  putting  forth  its  pale  flowers  amid 
the  snows  of  spring.  It  loves  damp  and  shady  situations.  The  name, 
derived  from  a  Greek  word  signifying  wind,  is  properly  applied  to  this 
flower,  because  it  expands  most  rapidly  in  windy  weather.  Its  stem,  two 
or  three  feet  1  igh,  bears  one  flower  at  the  top,  possessing  large  white 
petals.  But  there  are  several  species  of  anemone. 

533.  The  Auricula  (Flora's  symbol  of  pride  and  elegance)  fs  a  species 
of  primrose,  called  by  this  name  because  its  leaves  are  shaped  like  the 
ears  of  a  bear. 

535.  Ranunculas  (so  called  from  rana,  a  frog,  because  the  flower 
abounds  in  places  frequented  by  frogs),  sometimes  called  crowfoot,  some- 
times buttercup,  is  a  kind  of  plants,  some  of  which  are  beautiful  flowering 
plants,  particularly  the  Turkey  or  Persian  varieties,  which  are  distin- 
guished for  the  richness  of  then*  colors. 


SPEING.  69 

Then  comes  the  tulip  race,  where  beauty  plays 

Her  idle  freaks.     From  family  diffused 

To  family,  as  flies  the  father  dust, 

The  varied  colors  run ;  and  while  they  break 

On  the  charm'd  eye,  th'  exulting  florist  marks,  540 

With  secret  pride,  the  wonders  of  his  hand. 

No  gradual  bloom  is  wanting,  from  the  bud, 

First-born  of  Spring,  to  Summer's  musky  tribes ; 

Nor  hyacinths  of  purest  virgin  white,  \ 

Lowjbent;  andJWi^shingJnward ;  nor  jonquils  545 

Of  potent  fragrance  ;  nor  narcissus  fair, 

As  o'er  the  fabled  fountain  hanging  still ; 

Nor  broad  carnations,  nor  gay  spotted  pinks  ; 

Nor,  shower'd  from  every  bush,  the  damask  rose : 

Infinite  numbers,  delicacies,  smells,  550 

With  hues  on  hues  expression  cannot  paint, 

The  breath  of  Nature,  and  her  endless  bloom. 

DEVOUT  ADDRESS  TO  THE  GREAT  SOURCE  OF  BEING. 

Hail,  Source  of  Being  !  Universal  Soul 
Of  heaven  and  earth  !  Essential  Presence,  hail ! 

647.  Fabled  fountain :  The  classical  story  of  Narcissus  is  somewhat  va- 
iously  narrated,  but  the  substance  of  it  is,  that  having  seen  his  own  image 
eflected  from  a  fountain,  and  discovering  its  strong  resemblance  to  the 
form  of  a  deceased  twin-sister,  whose  features  and  dress  had  been  the 
ounterpart  almost  of  his  own,  and  whom  he  had  tenderly  loved,  he  was 
ccustomed  afterwards  to  visit  the  fountain,  and  gaze  upon  the  image 
:hat  brought  her  vividly  and  affectingly  before  his  mind.  His  grief  preyed 
upon  his  mind,  and  brought  him  prematurely  to  death,  and  the  gods,  it 
was  said,  compassionately  changed  him  into  the  flower  that  bears  his 
name.  That  flower  suits  the  fable  so  far  as  this  : — it  delights  in  the  mar- 
gins of  streams  and  fountains,  and  bending  the  top  of  its  slender  stalk 
over  the  water,  it  may  easily  be  conceived  as  viewing  there  its  own  im- 
age :  besides  this,  like  the  classical  Narcissus,  it  is  a  short-lived  flower. 

553-568.  Hail  !  Source  of  Being !  &c. :  The  sight  of  those  thrifty  la- 
borers (described  in  505-512),  in  which  the  domestic  toils  of  man  are  im- 
aged, and  the  provision  which  Nature  makes  in  a  succession  of  the  sweet- 


70  SPRING. 

To  Thee  I  bend  the  knee ;  to  Thee  my  thoughts  555 

Continual  climb  ;  Who,  with  a  master  hand, 
Hast  the  great  whole  into  perfection  touch'd. 

By  Thee  tliervarious  vegetative  tribes, 

j 

Wrapp'd  in  a  filmy  net  and  clad  with  leaves, 

Draw  the  live  ether  and  imbibe  the  dew.  560 

By  Thee  disposed  into  congenial  soils, 

est  flowers  for  his  gratification  (525-552),  bring  God  and  his  goodness  to 
the  poet's  mind.  His  address  to  the  Deity  is  of  exquisite  delicacy  and 
truth.— C. 

553-4.  Universal  Soul,  cfcc. :  Very  far  was  Thomson,  in  the  use  of  this 
expression,  from  adopting  the  Pantheistic  doctrine  of  the  "  Animus  Mun- 
di,"  which  confounds  the  Deity  with  creation,  and  makes  the  various  crea 
tures  but  several  parts  of  the  great  God.  He  believed  in  a  personal  God, 
the  source  of  being,  and  always  devoutly  discriminated  between  Him  and 
his  creatures  in  the  homage  which  he  frequently  pays  Him  ia  this  Poem 
of  the  Seasons.  According  to  Cicero,  the  ancient  Stoics  held  that  this 
world  is  wise,  and  has  a  mind  or  soul,  whereby  it  formed  or  fabricated 
both  it  and  itself,  and  orders,  moves,  and  governs  all  things  ;  and  that  the . 
sun,  moon,  and  stars  are  gods,  because  a  certain  animal  intelligence  pervades 
and  permeates  all  things.  The  learned  Varro  asserted,  that  the  soul  of  the 
world,  and  its  parts,  constituted  the  true  gods.  This  theology  or  philoso- 
phy, as  Leland  observes,  furnished  a  pretext  for  worshipping  the  several 
parts  of  the  world,  and  the  powers  and  virtues  diffused  through  the  parts 
of  it,  under  the  name  of  the  popular  divinities ;  though,  in  the  following 
lines,  Pope  may  have  possibly  designed  to  express  no  other  idea  than  that 
of  the  Divine  Omnipresence  and  universal  agency,  as  set  forth  in  the 
Scriptures,  he  could  not  have  presented  a  more  literal,  as  well  as  beau- 
tiful, statement  or  illustration  of  the  Pantheistic  and  pernicious  doctrine 
to  which  we  have  adverted. 

All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  nature  is,  and  God  the  soul; 
That  changed  through  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same, 
Great  in  the  earth  as  in  the  ethereal  flame  ; 
"Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees ; 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent. 

Thomson,  in  the  text,  conveys  simply  the  idea,  that  God  is  the  author  oi ; 
heaven  and  earth,  or  the  universe,  and  that  He  carries  forward  the  multi- 
farious operations  going  on,  by  his  universal  and  mysterious  agency  :  an] 
idea  embraced  in  that  sublime   sentence  of  the  apostle  Paul — "  Of  Him, 
and  to  Him,  and  through  Him,  are  all  things." 


v 


>\ 


SPRING.  71 

Stands  each  attractive  plant,  and  sucks  and  swells 

The  juicy  tide  ;  a  twining  mass  of  tubes. 

At  Thy  command  the  vernal  sun  awakes 

The  torpid  sap,  detruded  to  the  root  565 

By  wintry  winds  ;  that  now,  in  fluent  dance, 

And  lively  fermentation  mounting,  spreads 

All  this  innumerous- color 'd  scene  of  things. 

As  rising  from  the  vegetable  world 
My  theme  ascends,  with  equal  wing  ascend,  570 

My  panting  Muse.     And  hark,  how  loud  the  woods 
Invite  you  forth  in  all  your  gayest. trim.  -si 

Lend  me  your  song,  ye  nightingales !  oh,  pour 
The  mazy-running  soul  of  melody    . 

Into  my  varied  verse  !  while  I  deduce,  575 

From  the  first  note  the  hollow  cuckoo  sings, 

568.  Critics  have  censured  Thomson  for  employing  many  pedantic  and 
cumbrous  expressions,  one  of  which,  innumerous-color'd,  is  here  used,  de- 
scribing the  scene  of  things  around  us  as  possessed  of  innumerable  shades 
of  color. 

571.  My  panting  Muse :  Modern  poets  have  imitated  the  classical  po- 
ets of  Greece  and  Rome  in  ascribing  their  poetic  conceptions  and  compo- 
sitions to  an  imaginary  deity  called  by  this  name.  Of  the  Muses  there 
were  nine,  one  of  whom  was  honored  as  presiding  over  poetry.  Other 
fine  arts  were  patronized  by  her  sister  Muses.  As  our  author  is  now 
about  to  undertake  more  elevated  themes,  instead  of  calling  upon  his 
Imagination  and  Fancy  to  aid  him,  he  bids  his  panting  Muse,  under  the 
figure  of  a  bird  (see  also  699-700)  to  ascend  "with  equal  wing."  This 
word  is  generally  used,  therefore,  by  English  poets  as  denoting  the  ge- 
nius or  ^ower  of  poetry — the  mental  energy  which  produces  this  form  of 
composition. 

576.  Cuckoo  :  This  bird  belongs  to  a  group  which  is  characterized  by 
having  the  toes  situated  two  before  and  two  behind.  It  is  a  migratory 
bird  ;  it  arrives  in  England  in  the  month  of  April  for  the  purpose  of 
breeding.  It  differs  from  almost  every  other  bird  in  not  constructing  a 
nest,  nor  under  any  circumstances  hatching  its  own  eggs ;  but  deposits 
them  in  the  nests  of  other  birds,  as  the  heplge -sparrow.  The  unfledged 
young  have  a  remarkable  instinct, -which  impels  them  to  unceasing  efforts 
to  expel  their  helpless  companions  from  the  nest,  which  they  effect  by 
pushing  them  in  the  hollow  of  their  back  to  the  verge  of  the  nest,  and 
tilting  them  over,  until  they  at  length  monopolize  all  the  care  and  pro- 


SPKINQ. 

The  symphony  of  Spring,  andjouch  a  theme 
Unknown  to  fame, — the  Passion  of  the  Groves. 

THE    LOVE    OF    THE    GROVES    AND    COURTSHIP    OF    BIRDS. 

When  first  the  soul  of  love  is  sent  abroad, 
Warm  through  the  vital  air,  and  on  the  heart  580 

Harmonious  seizes,  the  gay  troops  begin, 
In  gallant  thought,  to  plume  the  painted  wing  ; 
And  try  again  the  long-forgotten  strain, 
At  first  faint  warbled.     But  no  sooner  grows 
The  soft  infusion  prevalent  and  wide,  585 

Than,  all  alive,  at  once  their  joy  overflows 
.In  music  unconfined.     Up  springs  the  lark, 
\Shrill- voiced  and  loud,  the  messenger  of  morn  : 
uEre  yet  the  shadows  fly,  he  mounted  sings 
[Amid  the  dawning  clouds,  and  from  their  haunts  590 

Calls  up  the  tuneful  nations.     Every  copse 

risi  :>n  of  the  foster-parent.  The  young  cuckoos  of  the  year  do  not  leave 
England  till  the  month  of  September. — BRANDS. 

579-604.  To  this  fine  hymn  the  birds  add  their  songs,  each  according 
to  its  kind :  the  untaught  harmony  of  Spring  comes  from  the  clear  sky, 
the  tree-top,  and  the  blooming  hawthorn ;  nor  are  the  songsters  unseen 
by  the  poet,  who  knows  the  haunts  of  each.  He  gives  the  bramble  to 
the  wren,  the  half-long  tree  to  the  thrush,  and  the  cloud  to  the  lark. — C. 

587.  The  lark :  The  scene  described  by  the  .poet  receives  further  illus- 
tration from  the  pen  of  Mrs.  Ellis,  -whey among  other  fine  things,  says,  in 
her  "  Poetry  of  Life," — And  then  there  is  the  glad  voice  of  the  lark,  that 
spring  of  perpetual  freshness,  pouring  forth  its  untiring  and  inexhaustible 
melody.  Who  ever  listened  to  this  voice  on  a  clear  spring  morning,  when 
Nature  was  first  rising  from  her  wintry  bed,  when  the  furze  was  in  bloom, 
and  the  lambs  at  play,  and  the  primrose  and  the  violet  scented  the  deli- 
cious south  wind  that  came  with  the  glad  tidings  of  renovated  life ;  who 
ever  listened  to  the  song  of  the  lark  on  such  a  morning,  while  the  dew  was 
upon  the  grass,  and  the  sun  was  smiling  through  a  cloudless  sky,  without 
feeling  that  the  spirit  of  joy  was  still  alive  within,  around,  jind  above  him, 
and  that  those  wild  and  happy  strains,  floating  in  softened  melody  upon 
the  scented  air,  were  the  outpourings  of  a  gratitude  too  rapturous  for 
words  ? 


SPKING.  73 

Deep  tangled,  tree  irregular,  and  bush 
Bending  with  dewy  moisture,  o'er  the  heads 
Of  the  coy  quiristers  that  lodge  within, 
Are  prodigal  of  harmony.     The  thrush  595 

And  woodlark,  o'er  the  kind  contending  throng 
Superior  heard,  run  through  the  sweetest  length 
Of  notes  ;  when  listening  Philomela  deigns 
To  let  them  joy,  and  purposes,  in  thought 
Elate,  to  make  her  night  excel  their  day.  600 

The  blackbird  whistles  from  the  thorny  brake 
The  mellow  bullfinch  answers  from  the  grove. 
Nor  are  the  linnets,  o'er  the  flowering  furze 
Pour'd  out  profusely,  silent.     Join'd  to  these 
Innumerous  songsters,  in  the  fresh'ning  shade  605 

Of  new-sprung  leaves,  their  modulations  mix 
^Mellifluous.     The  jay,  the  rook,  the  daw, 
And  each  harsh  pipe,  discordant  heard  alone, 
Aid  the  full  concert ;  while  the  stockdove  breathes 

598.  Philomela :  The  Nightingale,  so  called  for  the  reason  stated  by 
the  poet.  It  ranks  among  the  sweetest  of  song-birds,  but  owes  perhaps 
no  small  share  of  its  celebrity  to  the  circumstance  of  the  serenity  and 
quiet  of  the  night  hours,  and  to  its  being  the  solitary  songster.  They  mi- 
grate in  April  or  May  to  England  from  the  south,  for  the  purpose  of 
breeding;  "and  (according  to  Brande)  the  famed  song  of  the  male  is  his 
love- chant,  and  ceases  when  his  mate  has  hatched  her  brood.  Vigilance, 
anxiety,  and  caution  now  succeed  to  harmony  ;  and  his  croak  is  the  hush, 
the  warning  of  danger  and  suspicion,  to  the  infant  charge  and  the  mother 
bird.  If  by  accident  his  mate  be  killed,  the  male  resumes  his  song  ;  and 
will  continue  to  chant  till  very  late  in  summer,  unless  he  can  attract,  as 
he  commonly  soon  does,  another  female." 

The  term  Philomela  signifies  song-loving.  Its  application  to  the  sweet- 
singing  Nightingale  is  connected  with  the  classical  legend  which  affirms 
that  Philomela,  a  daughter  of  Pandion,  king  of  Athens,  getting  into  diffi- 
culty, was,  in  answer  to  her  prayer,  changed  by  the  gods  into  a  night- 
ingale. 

607-9.  In  the  spring,  says  Mrs.  Ellis,  when  the  rooks  first  begin  to  be 
busy  with  their  nests,  their  language,  like  their  feelings  and  occupations, 
is  cheerful,  bustling,  and  tumultuous.  Within  the  rookery  it  is  perfect 
discord ;  but  heard  in  the  distance  it  conveys  to  the  mind  innumerable 

4 


74  SPKING. 

A  melancholy  murmur  through  the  whole.  610 

'Tis  love  creates  their  melody,  and  all 
This  waste  of  music  is  the  voice  of  love  ; 
That  even  to  birds  and  beasts  the  tender  arts 
Of  pleasing  teaches.     Hence  the  glossy  kind 
Try  every  winning  way  inventive  love  615 

Can  dictate,  and  in  courtship  to  their  mates 
Pour  forth  their  little  souls.     First,  wide  around, 
With  distant  awe,  in  airy  rings  they  rove, 
Endeavoring  by  a  thousand  tricks  to  catch 
The  cunning,  conscious,  half  averted  glance  620 

Of  the  regardless  charmer.     Should  she  seem 
Softening  the  least  approvance  to  bestow, 
Their  colors  burnish,  and,  by  hope  inspired, 
They  brisk  advance ;  then,  on  a  sudden  struck, 
4  Retire  disorder 'd  ;  then  again  approach  ;  625 

In  fond  rotation  spread  the  spotted  wing, 
And  shiver  every  feather  with  desire. 

NEST-BUILDING. 

Connubial  leagues  agreed,  to  the  deep  woods 
They  haste  away,  all  as  their  fancy  leads, 
Pleasure,  or  food,  or  secret  safety  prompts  ;  630 

That  Nature's  great  command  may  be  obey'd, 
Nor  all  the  sweet  sensations  they  perceive 
Indulged  in  vain.     Some  to  the  holly  hedge 
Nestling  repair,  and  to  the  thicket  some  ; 

pleasing  associations  with  that  delightful  season  of  the  year,  and  the  uni- 
versal alacrity  and  joy  with  which  the  animal  creation  resume  their  prep- 
arations for  a  new  and  happy  life. 

616-627.  Courtship,  &c. :  This  entire  passage  displays  to  great  advan- 
tage the  habits  of  close  and  minute  observation,  and  also  of  accurate  and 
graphic  description,  for  which  Thomson  is  deservedly  celebrated. 

631.  Nature's  great  command:  Gen.  i.  22 — "  And  God  blessed  them,  and 
said,  Let  fowl  multiply  in  the  earth." 


SPRING.  75 

Some  to  the  rude  protection  of  the  thorn  635 

Commit  their  feeble  offspring.     The  cleft  tree 

Offers  its  kind  concealment  to  a  few, 

Their  food  its  insects,  and  its  moss  their  nests. 

Others  apart,  far  in  the  grassy  dale, 

Or  rough'ning  waste,  their  humble  texture  weave.  640 

But  most  in  woodland  solitudes  delight, 

In  unfrequented  glooms,  or  shaggy  banks, 

Steep  and  divided  by  a  babbling  brook, 

Whose  murmurs  soothe  them  all  the  livelong  day, 

When  by  kind  duty  fix'd.     Among  the  roots  645 

Of  hazel,  pendent  o'er  the  plaintive  stream, 

They  frame  the  first  foundation  of  their  domes  ;    •{- 

Dry  sprigs  of  trees,  in  artful  fabric  laid, 

And  bound  with  clay  together.     Now  'tis  naught 

But  restless  hurry  through  the  busy  air,  650 

Beat  by  unnumber'd  wings.     The  swallow  sweeps 

The  slimy  pool,  to  build  his  hanging  house 

Intent.     And  often,  from  the  careless  back 

Of  herds  and  flocks,  a  thousand  tugging  bills 

Pluck  hair  and  wool ;  and  oft,  when  unobserved,  655 

652.  Hanging  house :  Reference  is  here  made  to  those  swallows  that  build 
their  nest  against  the  interior  wall  of  a  chimney,  or  some  other  perpen- 
dicular wall,  to  which,  by  one  of  its  sides,  it  is  attached.  That  of  the 
chimney-swallow  is  composed  of  small  twigs  fastened  together  with  a 
strong  glue  or  gum,  secreted  by  two  glands  on  each  side  of  the  back  part 
of  the  head,  which  mixes  with  the  saliva.  The  window-swallow,  or  mar- 
tin, build  of  mud  taken  from  a  neighboring  brook,  which  they  put  on 
about  half  an  inch  thick  in  the  morning,  leaving  it  till  the  next  morning 
that  it  may  become  dry  and  hard,  so  as  to  receive  then  a  further  addi- 
tion. Thus  the  nest  is  completed  in  ten  or  twelve  days. 

The  swallow  (says  Sir  Humphrey  Davy)  is  one  of  my  favorite  birds, 
and  a  rival  to  the  nightingale,  for  he  gladdens  my  sense  of  seeing  as  the 
other  does  my  sense  of  hearing.  He  is  the  joyous  prophet  of  the  year, 
the  harbinger  of  the  best  season.  He  lives  a  life  of  enjoyment  amongst 
the  loveliest  forms  of  Nature ;  winter  is  unknown  to  him,  and  he  leaves 
the  green  meadows  of  England  in  autumn  for  the  myrtle  and  orange  grovea 
oi*  Italy  and  for  the  palms  of  Africa. 


T6 


SPRING. 

Steal  from  the  barn  a  straw ;  till  soft  and  warm, 
Clean  and  complete,  their  habitation  grows. 

PARENTAL    DUTIES    OF    BIRDS. 

As  thus  the  patient  dam  assiduous  sits, 
Not  to  be  tempted  from  her  tender  task, 
Or  by  sharp  hunger  or  by  smooth  delight,  660 

Though  the  whole  loosen'd  Spring  around  her  blows ; 
Her  sympathizing  lover  takes  his  stand 
High  on  th'  opponent  bank,  and  ceaseless  sings 
The  tedious  time  away ;  or  else  supplies 
Her  place  a  moment,  while  she  sudden  flits  665 

To  pick  the  scanty  meal.     Th'  appointed  time 
With  pious  toil  fulfill'd,  the  callow  young, 
Warm'd  and  expanded  into  perfect  life, 
Their  brittle  bondage  break,  and  come  to  light, 
A  helpless  family,  demanding  food  670 

With  constant  clamor.     0,  what  passions  then, 
What  melting  sentiments  of  kindly  care, 
On  the  new  parents  seize !     Away  they  fly 
Affectionate,  and  undesiring  bear 

The  most  delicious  morsel  to  their  young;  675 

Which  equally  distributed,  again 
The  search  begins.     E'en  so  a  gentle  pair, 
By  fortune  sunk,  but  form'd  of  generous  mould, 
And  charm'd  with  cares  beyond  the  vulgar  breast, 
In  some  lone  cot  amicRhe  distant  woods,  680 

Sustain'd  alone  by  providential  Heaven, 
Oft,  as  they  weeping  eye  their  infant  train, 
Check  their  own  appetites,  and  give  them  all. 

Nor  toil  alone  they  scorn  :  exalting  love, 
By  the  great  FATHER  OF  THE  SPRING  inspired,  685 

Gives  instant  courage  to  the  fearful  race, 
And,  to  the  simple,  art.     With  stealthy  wing, 


SPRING. 

Should  some  rude  foot  their  woody  haunts  molest, 

Amid  a  neighboring  bush  they  silent  drop, 

And  whirring  thence,  as  if  alarm'd,  deceive  690 

Th'  unfeeling  schoolboy.     Hence,  around  the  head 

Of  wand'ring  swain,  the  white-wing'd  plover  wheels 

Her  sounding  flight,  and  then  directly  on 

In  long  excursion  skims  the  level  lawn, 

To  tempt  him  from  her  nest.     The  wild-duck,  hence,     695 

O'er  the  rough  moss,  and  o'er  the  trackless  waste 

The  heath-hen  flutters  (pious  fraud !)  to  lead 

The  hot  pursuing  spaniel  far  astray. 

THE    BARBAROUS    BIRD-CAGE,    AND    NEST    ROBBERY./\ 

Be  not  the  Muse  ashamed  here  to  bemoan 
Her  brothers  of  the  grove,  by  tyrant  Man  700 

Inhuman  caught,  and  in  the  narrow  cage, 
From  liberty  confined  and  boundless  air. 
Dull  are  the  pretty  slaves,  their  plumage  dull, 
Ragged,  and  all  its  brightening  lustre  lost ; 
Nor  is  that  sprightly  wildness  in  their  notes,  705 

Which,  clear  and  vigorous,  warbles  from  the  beech. 
0  then,  ye  friends  of  love  and  love-taught  song, 
Spare  the  soft  tribes,  this  barbarous  art  forbear ; 
If  on  your  bosom  innocence  can  win, 
Music  engage,  or  piety  persuade.  710 

But  let  not  chief  the  nightingale  lament 
Her  ruin'd  care,  too  delicately  Wmed 
To  brook  the  harsh  confinement  of  the  cage. 
Oft  when,  returning  with  her  loaded  bill, 
Th'  astonish'd  mother  finds  a  vacant  nest,  715 

711.  The  idea  may  be  thus  expressed  : — But  chiefly,  or  especially,  let 
not  the  nightingale  be  compelled  to  lament  the  objects  of  her  care  ruined, 
being  too  delicately  framed,  &c.  The  tenderness  of  her  maternal  instinct 
is  here  most  pathetically  portrayed. 


78  SPUING. 

By  the  hard  hands  of  unrelenting  clowns 
Robb'd,  to  the  ground  the  vain  provision  falls  ; 
. ju       Her  pinions  ruffle,  and  low-drooping  scarce 
A  /        Can  bear  the  mourner  to  the  poplar  shade ; 

here,  all  abandon'd  to  despair,  she  sings  720 

er  sorrows  through  the  night ;  and,  on  the  bough, 
le-sitting,  still  at  every  dying  fall 
/Takes  up  again  her  lamentable  strain 
Of  winding  woe  ;  till,  wide  around,  the  woods 
Sigh  to  her  song,  and  with  her  wail  resound.  725 

THE    YOUNG    BIRDS    TAUGHT    TO    FLY. 

But  now  the  feather'd  youth  their  former  bounds, 
Ardent,  disdain ;  and,  weighing  oft  their  wings, 
Demand  the  free  possession  of  the  sky ; 
This  one  glad  office  more,  and  then  dissolves        •» 
Parental  love  at  once,  now  needless  grown :  730 

Unlavish  Wisdom  never  works  in  vain. 
'Tis  on  some  evening,  sunny,  grateful,  mild, 
When  naught  but  balm  is  breathing  through  the  woods, 
With  yellow  lustre  bright,  that  the  new  tribes 
Visit  the  spacious  heavens,  and  look  abroad  735 

On  Nature's  common,  far  as  they  can  see, 
Or  wring,  their  range  and  pasture.     O'er  the  boughs 
Dancing  about,  still  at  the  giddy  verge 
Their  resolution  fails  ;  "their  pinions  still, 
In  loose  libration  strefln'd,  to  trust  the  void  740 

Trembling  refuse  ;  till  down  before  them  fly 
The  parent  guides,  and  chide,  exhort,  command, 
Or  push  them  off.     The  surging  air  receives 
Its  plumy  burden  ;  and  their  self-taught  wings 
Winnow  the  waving  element.     On  ground  745 

722.  Dying  fall :  That  is,  in  the  t<5i\es  of  her  voice. 
727.    Weighing:  Lifting. 


SPRING.  79 

Alighted,  bolder  up  again  they  lead, 

Farther  and  farther  on,  the  lengthening  flight ; 

Till  vanish'd  every  fear,  and  every  power 

Roused  into  life  and  action,  light  in  air 

Th'  acquitted  parents  see  their  soaring  race,  750 

And  once  rejoicing  never  know  them  more. 

High  from  the  summit  of  a  craggy  cliff, 

Hung  o'er  the  deep,  such  as  amazing  frowns 

On  utmost  Kilda's  shore,  whose  lonely  race  I 

Resign  the  setting  sun  to  Indian  worlds,       J  755 

The  royal  eagle  draws  his  vigorous  young, 

Strong-pounced,  and  ardent  with  paternal  fire. 

Now  fit  to  raise  a  kingdom  of  their  own, 

He  drives  them  from  his  fort,  the  towering  seat, 

For  ages,  of  his  empire  ;  which,  in  peace,  760 

Unstain'd  he  holds ;  while  many  a  league  to  sea 

He  wings  his  course,  and  preys  in  distant  isles. 


INFLUENCE    OF    SPRING    ON    DOMESTIC    FOWLS,     ON    BRUTES,    AND 

MONSTERS    OF    THE    DEEP. 

y    *>~Z<  ********} 

\      Should  I  my  steps  turn  to  the  rural  seat, 
Whose  lofty  elms  and  venerable  oaks 

Invite  the  rook,  which  high  amid  the  boughs,  765 

In  early  Spring,  his  airy  city  builds, 
^  And  ceaseless  caws  amjosjve-;  there,  well  pleased, 
I  might  the  various  polity  survey 
Of  the  mix'd  household  kind.     The  careful  hen 
Calls  all  her  chirping  family  around,  770 

Fed  and  defended  by  the  fearless  cock ; 
Whose  breast  with  ardor  flames,  as  on  he  walks, 
Graceful,  and  crows  defiance.     In  the  pond, 
The  finely  checker'd  duck,  before  her  train, 

754.  Kilda :  The  most  remote  of  the  western  islands  of  Scotland. 


80  SPRING. 

Hows  garrulous.     The  stately  sailing  swan  775 

Gives  out  his  snowy  plumage  to  the  gale ; 
And,  arching  proud  his  neck,  with  oary  feet 
Bears  forward  fierce,  and  guards  his  osier  isle, 

.  Protective  of  his  young.     The  turkey  nigh, 

/  Loud  threatening,  reddens;  while  the  peacock  spreads    780 
His  every-color'd  glory  to  the  sun, 
And  swims  in  radiant  majesty  along. 
O'er  the  whole  homely  scene  the  cooing  dove 

\  Flies  thick  in  am'rous  chase,  and  wanton  rolls 
The  glancing  eye,  and  turns  the  changeful  neck.  785 

While  thus  the  gentle  tenants  of  the  shade 
Indulge  their  purer  loves,  the  rougher  world 
Of  brutes  below  rush  furious  into  flame 
And  fierce  desire.     Through  all  his  lusty  veins 
The  bull,  deep  scorch'd,  the  raging  passion  feels.  790 

Of  pasture  sick,  and  negligent  of  food, 
Scarce  seen,  he  wades  among  the  yellow  broom, 
While  o'er  his  ample  sides  the  rambling  sprays 
Luxuriant  shoot ;  on  through  the  mazy  wood 
Dejected  wanders,  nor  th'  enticing  bud  795 

Crops,  though  it  presses  on  his  careless  sense : 
oft,  in  jealous  madd'ning  fancy  wrapp'd, 
seeks  the  fight,  and,  idly  butting,  feigns 
is  rival  gored  in  every  knotty  trunk. 
Him  should  he  meet,  the  bellowing  war  begins ;  800 

Their  eyes  flash  fury ;  to  the  hollow'd  earth, 
Whence  the  sand  flies,  they  mutter  bloody  deeds, 

792.  Broom:  A  species  of  evergreen  shrub,  common  in  Britain,  the 
branches  of  which  are  made  up  into  brooms.  Its  botanical  name  is  Spar- 
tiuiii  scoparium.  There  is  another  species  which,  being  used  in  dyeing 
yellow,  is  called  Dt/er's  broom;  its  botanical  name  is  Genista  tinctoria. 
The  beauty  of  its  color  may  be  estimated  by  what  Prof.  "Wilson  says  of 
it : — "  You  have  been  wont  to  call  a  gold  guinea  or  a  sovereign  yellow ; 
but  if  you  have  got  one  in  your  pocket,  place  it  on  your  palm,  and  in  the 
light  of  that  broom  is  it  not  a  dirty  brown?" 


SPKING. 


\/ 


And,  groaning  deep,  th'  impetuous  battl 
,  While  the  fair  heifer,  balmy-breathing, 
Stands  kindling  up  their  rage.     The  trembling^ 
With  this  hot  impulse  seized  in  every  nerve, 
Nor  heeds  the  rein,  nor  hears  the  sounding  thong. 
',    Blows  are  not  felt ;  but,  tossing  high  his  head, 
And  by  the  well-known  joy  to  distant  plains 
Attracted  strong,  all  wild  he  bursts  away ; 
O'er  rocks  and  woods  and  craggy  mountains  flies ; 
And,  neighing,  on  th'  aerial  summit  takes 
Th'  exciting  gale;  then,  steep  descending,  cleaves 
The  headlong  torrent  foaming  down  the  hills, 
E'en  where  the  madness  of  the  straiten'd  stream 
Turns  in  black  eddies  round.     Such  is  the  force 
With  which  his  frantic  heart  and  sinews  swell. 

Nor  undelighted  by  the  boundless  Spring 
Are  the  broad  monsters  of  the  foaming  deep. 
>    From  the  deep  ooze  and  gelid  cayern  roused, 
They  flounce  and  tumble  in  unwieldy  joy. 
Dire  were  the  strain,  and  dissonant,  to  sing 
The  cruel  raptures  of  the  savage  kind  ; 
How  by  this  flame  their  native  wrath  sublimed, 
They  roam,  amid  the  fury  of  their  heart, 
The  far  resounding  waste  in  fiercer  bands, 
And  growl  their  horrid  loves.     But  this  the  theme 
I  sing,  enraptured,  to  the  British  Fair, 
^Forbids,  and  leads  me  to  the  mountain  brow, 
|  Where  sits  the  shepherd  on  the  grassy  turf, 
unhaling,  healthful,  the  descending  sun. 
/  Around  him  feeds  his  many-bleating  flock, 
1  Of  various  cadence ;  and  his  sportive  lambs, 
LThis  way  and  that  convolved  in  friskful  glee, 
Their  frolics  play.     And  now  the  sprightly  race 
Invites  them  forth ;  when  swift,  the  signal  given, 
They  start  away,  and  sweep  the  massy  mound 


810 


815 


820 


825 


830 


83? 


82 


SPUING. 


That  runs  around  the  hill ;  the  rampart  once 

Of  iron  war,  in  ancient  barbarous  times, 

When  disunited  Britain  ever  bled,  840 

•  /Lost  in  eternal  broil :  ere  yet  she  grew 
I  To  this  deep-laid,  indissoluble  state, 
j  Where  wealth  and  commerce  lift  their  golden  heads, 
/  And  o'er  our  labors  liberty  and  law, 

Impartial,  watch  ;  the  wonder  of  the  world  !  845 

What  is  this  mighty  Breath,  ye  sages,  say, 

That,  in  a  powerful  language,  felt,  not  heard, 

Instructs  the  fowls  of  heaven,  and  through  their  breast 

These  arts  of  love  diffuses  ?     What,  but  God  ? 

Inspiring  God  !  who,  boundless  Spirit  all,  850 

And  unremitting  Energy,  pervades, 

Adjusts,  sustains,  and  agitates  the  whole. 
:  He  ceaseless  works  alone ;  and  yet  alone 
|  Seems  not  to  work :  with  such  perfection  framed 
\  Is  this  complex,  stupendous  scheme  of  things.  855 

1  But,  though  conceal'd,  to  every  purer  eye 

Th'  informing  Author  in  his  works  appears : 

Chief  lovely  Spring,  in  thee,  and  thy  soft  scenes, 

The  smiling  God  is  seen ;  while  water,  earth, 

And  air  attest  his  bounty,  which  exalts  860 

The  brute  creation  to  this  finer  thought, 

And  annual  melts  their  undesigning  hearts 

Profusely  thus  in  tenderness  and  joy. 

838.  The  hill.  What  hill  is  here  meant  it  is  not  easy  to  determine ; 
but,  as  he  describes,  a  little  further  on,  the  landscape  at  and  around 
Hagley  Park,  the  seat  of  Lord  Lyttleton  in  Worcestershire,  it  is  to  be 
presumed  that  he  refers  to  the  Clent  Hills  in  that  vicinity :  for  these,  as 
Hugh  Miller  states,  at  an  early  period  formed  one  of  the  battle-fields  on 
which  the  naked  Briton  contended  on  unequal  terms  with  the  mail-envel- 
oped Roman. 

846.  Breath :  Here  used  as  synonymous  with  spirit. 

857.  Informing:  Life-giving. 


SPRING. 


INFLUENCE    OF    SPRING    ON    MAN. 


83 


Still  let  my  song  a  nobler  note  assume, 
And  sing  th'  infusive  force  of  Spring  on  man.  865 

When  heaven  and  earth,  as  if  contending,  vie 
To  raise  his  being  and  serene  his  soul, 
Can  he  forbear  to  join  the  general  smile 
Of  nature  ?  \  Can  fierce  passions  vex  his  breast, 
While  every  gale  is  peace,  and  every  grove  870 

Is  melody  ?\    Hence  !  from  the  bounteous  walks 
Of  flowing  Spring,  ye  sordid  sons  of  earth, 
Hard,  and  unfeeling  of  another's  woe, 
Or  only  lavish  to  yourselves,  away ! 

But  come,  ye  generous  minds,  in  whose  wide  thought,     875 
Of  all  his  works,  creative  Bounty  burns 
^'  With  warmest  beam  ;  and  on  your  open  front 

!And  liberal  eye,  sits,  from  his  dark  retreat 
Inviting  modest  Want.  Nor,  till  invoked, 
Can  restless  goodness  wait :  your  active  search  880 

Leaves  no  cold  wintry  corner  unexplored ; 

I  Like  silent-working  Heaven,  surprising  oft 
The  lonely  heart  with  unexpected  good. 
For  you  the  roving  Spirit  of  the  wind 
Blows  Spring  abroad;  for  you  the  teeming  clouds          885 
Descend  in  gladsome  plenty  o'er  the  world ; 
And  the  sun  sheds  his  kindest  rays  for  you, 
Ye  flower  of  human  race  !  In  these  green  days, 
Reviving  Sickness  lifts  her  lan-guid  head ; 


875-6.  The  thought  here  intended  to  be  expressed  seems  to  be  this: 
generous  men  in  their  wide  range  of  thought,  having  regard  to  others  as 
well  as  to  themselves,  exhibit  more  than  any  other  of  the  works  of  God — 
in  a  more  intense  degree — the  warm  benevolence  of  their  Maker.  They 
manifest  a  similar  bounty,  originating  blessings  to  the  sons  of  want.  Such 
the  poet  iptly  denominates  the  Flower  of  the  human  race. 


, 


84  SPRIXG. 

Life  flows  afresh  ;  and  young-eyed  Health  exalts  890 

The  whole  creation  round.     Contentment  walks 

The  sunny  glade,  and  feels  an  inward  bliss 

Spring  o'er  his  mind,  beyond  the  power  of  kings 

To  purchase.     Pure  serenity  apace 

Induces  thought  and  contemplation  still.  895 

By  swift  degrees  the  love  of  Nature  works, 

And  warms  the  bosom ;  till  at  last,  sublimed 

To  rapture  and  enthusiastic  heat, 

We  feel  the  present  Deity,  and  taste 

The  joy  of  GOD  to  see  a  happy  world  !  y,    900 

These  are  the  sacred  feelings  of  thy  heart, 
^hy  heart  inform'd  by  reason's  purer  ray, 
0  Lyttleton,  the  friend !     Thy  passions  thus 

890.  Exalts.  While  this  reading  is  found  in  all  the  copies  I  have  seen, 
the  context  seems  to  require  exults  as  a  more  appropriate  word. 

900.  Joy  of  God:  That  is,  such  as  He  feels — an  intense,  exalted,  rap- 
turous delight. 

903.  Lyttleton:  Lord  George  Lyttleton,  the  friend  and  patron  of  Thom- 
son. He  was  a  member  of  the  British  Parliament,  and  secretary  to  the 
Prince  of  "Wales.  This  latter  situation  put  it  in  his  power  to  appoint 
Thomson  to  the  office  of  surveyor -general  of  the  Leeward  Islands,  the 
duties  of  which  he  was  allowed  to  perform  by  a  deputy,  and  the  profits 
realized  were  £300  per  annum.  It  was  through  the  influence  of  the  same 
noble  friend  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  conferred  upon  him  a  pension  of 
£100  a  year;  but  in  a  few  years  it  was  withdrawn,  in  consequence  of  his 
patron  becoming  obnoxious  to  the  displeasure  of  the  Prince.  Being  an 
opponent  of  the  Walpole  administration,  when  that  came  to  a  close,  he 
was  made,  in  1744,  one  of  the  Lords  of  the  Treasury;  in  1755  a  privy- 
councillor  ;  the  next  year  a  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  and  some  time 
afterwards  was  raised  to  the  peerage.  As  a  literary  man,  some  of  his 
poetical  effusions  possess  merit — particularly  his  monody  to  his  deceased 
wife,  and  his  prologue  to  Thomson's  tragedy  of  Coriolanus,  which  WLS 
spoken  by  Mr.  Quin,  soon  after  Thomson's  death.  He  was  the  author  of 
an  elaborate  history  of  the  reign  of  Henry  II.  of  England.  His  treatise 
on  the  conversion  of  St.  Paul  still  holds  a  high  place  among  the  best 
works  of  evidence  in  favor  of  Christianity,  and  to  which,  Dr.  Johnson  has 
said,  infidelity  has  never  been  able  to  fabricate  a  specious  answer.  •  He 
was  a  liberal  patron  of  several  literary  men,  and  died  in  1773,  at  the  age 
of  sixty-four.  The  record  of  the  last  scene  of  his  life  is  worth  preserving 


SPRING.  85 

And  meditations  vary,  as  at  large, 

Courting  the  Muse,  through  Hagley  Park  thou  struyest,  905 

Thy  British  Tempe  !     There  along  the  dale, 

With  woods  o'erhung,  and  shagg'd  with  mossy  rocks, 

Whence  on  each  hand  the  gushing  waters  play, 

And  down  the  rough  cascade  white  dashing  fall, 

Or  gleam  in  lengthen'd  vista  through  the  trees,  910 

You  silent  steal ;  or  sit  beneath  the  shade 

Of  solemn  oaks,  that  tuft  the  swelling  mounts, 

Thrown  graceful  round  by  Nature's  careless  hand, 

And  pensive  listen  to  the  various  voice 

Of  rural  peace  :  the  herds,  the  flocks,  the  birds,  915 

I  The  hollow-whispering  breeze,  the  plaint  of  rills, 
That,  purling  down  amid  the  twisted  roots 

He  is  said  to  have  then  addressed  his  physician  in  the  following  language : 
"  Doctor,  when  I  first  set  out  in  the  world,  I  had  friends  who  endeavored 
to  shake  my  belief  in  the  Christian  religion.  I  saw  difficulties  which 
staggered  me;  but  I  kept  my  mind  open  to  conviction.  The  evidences, 
and  doctrines  of  Christianity,  studied  with  attention,  made  me  a  most  firm 
and  persuaded  believer  of  the  Christian  religion.  I  have  made  it  the  rule 
of  my  life,  and  it  is  the  ground  of  my  future  hopes.  I  have  erred  and 
sinned,  but  have  repented,  and  never  indulged  any  vicious  habit  In 
politics  and  public  life  I  have  made  public  good  the  rule  of  my  conduct. 
I  have  endeavored,  in  private  life,  to  do  all  the  good  in  my  power,  and 
never  for  a  moment  could  indulge  malicious  or  unjust  designs  upon  any 
person  whatsoever." 

He  was  a  good  man,  and  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  second  Lord 
Lyttleton,  his  son — the  sad  opposite  of  his  father  in  moral  character  and 
influence  ; — a  full  and  interesting  account  of  both  of  whom  has  been 
furni.shed  by  Hugh  Miller  in  his  recent  work,  entitled  "  First  Impress-ions 
of  England  and  its  People." 

906.  The  British  Tempt :  What  the  celebrated  vale  of  Tempe  was  to 
Greece,  that,  in  the  poet's  estimation,  was  the  dale  of  Hagley  to  Britain, 
and  which  he  now  proceeds  to  describe  in  an  exquisitely  beautiful  manner. 
Tempe  was  a  valley  in  Thessaly,  having  Mount  Olympus  on  the  north  and 
Mount  Ossa  on  the  south.  It  was  only  five  miles  long,  and  in  some  parts 
not  more  than  one  hundred  feet  wide.  The  poets  represent  it  as  a  most 
enchanting  scene,  abounding  in  verdant  walks,  cool  shades,  and  the  melody 
of  birds.  The  accuracy  of  their  eulogium  is  sustained  by  the  reports  of 
some  modern  travellers. 


86  SPRLXG. 

Which  creep  around,  their  dewy  murmurs  shake 

On  the  soothed  ear.     From  these  abstracted  oft, 

You  wander  through  the  philosophic  world ;  920 

Where  in  bright  train  continual  wonders  rise 

Or  to  the  curious  or  the  pious  eye. 

And  oft,  conducted  by  historic  truth, 

You  tread  the  long  extent  of  backward  time ; 

Plarning,  with  warm  benevolence  of  mind  925 

And  honest  zeal,  unwarp'd  by  party  rage, 

Britannia's  weal ;  how  from  the  venal  gulf 

To  raise  her  virtue,  and  her  arts  revive. 

Or,  turning  thence  thy  view,  these  graver  thoughts 

The  Muses  charm ;  while,  with  sure  taste  refined,  930 

You  draw  th'  inspiring  breath  of  ancient  song  ; 

Till  nobly  rises,  emulous,  t^iy  own. 

Perhaps  thy  loved  Lucinda  shares  thy  walk, 


933.  Thy  loved  Lucinda :  Lucy  Lady  Lyttleton,  by  whom  Lord  Lyttle- 
ton  had  one  son  and  two  daughters,  and  with  whom  he  passed  about  five 
years  in  the  highest  degree  of  connubial  happiness,  as  we  learn  from  Dr. 
Johnson,  and  from  the  lines  of  the  poet.  According  to  the  epitaph  in- 
ecribed  upon  her  monument,  she  was 

Made  to  engage  all  hearts  and  charm  all  eyes ; 
Though  meek,  magnanimous;  though  witty,  wise: 
Polite  as  she  in  courts  had  ever  been, 
Yet  good  as  she  the  world  had  never  seen ; 
The  noble  fire  of  an  exalted  mind, 
With  gentle  female  tenderness  combined. 
Her  speech  was  the  melodious  voice  of  love, 
Her  song  the  warbling  of  the  vernal  grove; 
Her  eloquence  was  sweeter  than  her  song, 
Soft  as  her  heart,  and  as  her  reason  strong: 
Her  form  each  beauty  of  the  mind  expressed; 
Her  mind  was  virtue  by  the  Graces  dressed. 

Having  quoted  the  above,  Mr.  Hugh  Miller  remarks,  that  England  in  the 
eighteenth  century  saw  few  better  men  or  better  women  than  Lord 
Lyttleton  and  his  lady  ;  and  it  docs  seem  a  curious  enough  fact,  that  their 
only  son,  a  boy  of  many  hopes  and  many  advantages,  and  who  possessed 
quick  parts  and  a  vigorous  intellect,  should  have  proved,  notwithstanding, 
one  of  the  most  flagitious  personages  of  his  age.  The  first  Lord  Lyttleton 
was  not  more  conspicuous  for  his  genius  and  his  virtue?,  than  the  second 
Lord  Lyttleton  for  his  talents  and  his  vices. 


SPRING.  87 

With  soul  to  thine  attuned.     Then  Nature  all 

Wears  to  the  lover's  eye  a  look  of  love ;  935 

And  all  the  tumult  of  a  guilty  world, 

Toss'd  by  ungenerous  passions,  sinks  away. 

The  tender  heart  is  animated  peace ! 

And,  as  it  pours  its  copious  treasures  forth 

In  varied  converse,  softening  every  theme,  940 

You,  frequent  pausing,  turn,  and  from  her  eyes, 

Where  meeken'd  sense,  and  amiable  grace, 

And  lively  sweetness  dwell,  enraptured,  drink 

That  nameless  spirit  of  ethereal  joy, 

Unutterable  happiness  !  which  love  945 

Alone  bestows,  and  on  a  favor'd  few. 

Meantime  you  gain  the  height,  from  whose  fair  brow 

947-959.  In  1,845,  Hugh  Miller,  the  distinguished  Scotch  geologist,  made 
a  visit  at  Hagley,  and  has  recently  published  a  full,  scientific,  and  enter- 
taining account  of  that  region.  Those  who  may  not  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  access  to  that  account,  will  appreciate  the  beauty  and  appropriate- 
ness of  the  following  extracts.  They  have  the  greater  value  in  this  place 
because  they  serve  to  illustrate  the  text,  and  to  give  us  a  few  incidents  in 
the  life  of  Thomson : 

"  Passing  through  part  of  the  garden  and  a  small  but  well-kept  green- 
house, we  emerged  into  the  park,  and  began  to  ascend  the  hill  by  a  narrow 
inartificial  path  that  winds,  in  alternate  sunshine  and  shadow,  as  the  trees 
approach  or  recede  through  the  rich  moss  of  the  lawn.  Half  way  up  the 
ascent,  where  the  hill- side  is  indented  by  a  deep  irregular  semicircular 
depression,  open  and  grassy  in  the  bottom  and  sides,  but  thickly  garnished 
along  the  rim  with  nohle  trees,  there  is  a  semi-octagonal  temple,  dedi- 
cated to  the  genius  of  Thomson,  '  a  sublime  poet,'  says  the  inscription, 
'  and  a  good  man,'  who  greatly  loved,  when  living,  this  hollow  retreat.  I 
looked  with  no  little  interest  on  the  scenery  that  had  satisfied  so  great  a 
master  of  landscape,  and  thought,  though  it  might  be  but  fancy,  that  I 
succeeded  in  detecting  the  secret  of  his  admiration;  and  that  the  speci- 
alities of  his  taste  in  the  case  rested,  as  they  not  unfrequently  do  in  such 
cases,  on  a  substratum  of  personal  character.  The  green  hill  spread  out 
its  mossy  "arms  around,  like  the  arms  of  a  well-padded  easy-chair  of  enor- 
mous proportions,  imparting,  from  the  complete  seclusion  and  shelter 
which  it  affords,  luxurious  ideas  of  personal  security  and  ease ;  while  the 
open  part  permits  the  eye  to  expatiate  on  an  expansive  and  lovely 
landscape.  We  see  the  ground  immediately  in  front  occupied  by  an  un« 


88  SPRING. 

The  bursting  prospect  spreads  immense  around ; 

And,  snatch'd  o'er  hill  and  dale,  and  wood  and  lawn, 

And  verdant  field,  and  darkening  heath  between,  950 

And  villages  embosom'd  soft  in  trees, 

And  spiry  towns  by  surging  columns  mark'd 

Of  household  smoke,  your  eye  excursive  roams ; 

Wide  stretching  from  the  Hall,  in  whose  kind  haunt 

The  hospitable  Genius  lingers  still,  955 

To  where  the  broken  landscape,  by  degrees 

Ascending,  roughens  into  rigid  hills ; 

O'er  which  the  Cambrian  mountains,  like  far  clouds, 

That  skirt  the  blue  horizon,  dusky  rise. 


even  sea  of  tree-tops,  chiefly  oaks  of  noble  size,  that  rise  at  various  levels 
on  the  lower  slopes  of  the  park.  The  clear  sunshine  imparted  to  them 
this  day  exquisite  variegations  of  fleecy  light  and  shadow.  They  formed 
a  billowy  ocean  of  green,  that  seemed  as  if  wrought  in  floss  silk.  Far 
beyond — for  the  nearer  fields  of  the  level  country  are  hidden  by  the 
oaks — lies  a  blue  labyrinth  of  hedge-rows,  stuck  over  with  trees,  and  so 
crowded  together  in  the  distance  that  they  present,  as  has  already  been 
said,  a  forest-like  appearance ;  while,  still  further  beyond,  there  stretches 
along  the  horizon  a  continuous  purple  screen,  composed  of  the  distant 
highlands  of  Cambria,  Such  is  the  landscape  which  Thomson  loved." 

"  As  seen  from  his  chosen  recess,  the  blue  of  the  distant  hills  seems 
melting  into  the  blue  of  the  sky ;  or  as  he  himself  better  describes  the 
dim  outline, 

'  The  Cambrian  mountains,  like  far  clouds 
That  skirt  the  blue  horizon,  dusky  rise.' 

"  I  passed  somewhat  hurriedly  through  glens  and  glades — over  rising 
knolls  and  wooded  slopes — saw  statues  and  obelisks,  temples  and  hermit 
ages,  and  lingered  awhile,  ere  I  again  descended  to  the  lawn,  on  the  top  of 
an  eminence  which  commands  one  of  the  richest  prospects  I  had  yet  seen. 
The  landscape  from  this  point — by  far  too  fine  to  have  escaped  the  eye 
of  Thomson — is  described  in  the  '  Seasons ;'  and  the  hill  which  overlooks 
it,  represented  as  terminating  one  of  the  walks  of  Lyttleton  and  his  lady — 
that  Lucy  Lady  Lyttleton  whose  early  death  formed,  but  a  few  years 
after,  the  subject  of  the  monody  so  well  known  and  so  much  admired  in 
the  days  of  our  great-grandmothers : 

'  The  beauteous  bride, 

To  whose  fair  memory  flowed  the  tenderest  tear 
That  ever  trembled  o'er  the  female  bier.1" 


SPRING.  89 

THE    MISERIES    OF    WILD    AND    IRREGULAR    PASSION. 

Flush'd  by  the  spirit  of  the  genial  year,  960 

Now  from  the  virgin's  cheek  a  fresher  bloom 
Shoots,  less  and  less,  the  live  carnation  round ; 
Her  lips  blush  deeper  sweets  ;  she  breathes  of  youth ; 
The  shining  moisture  swells  into  her  eyes, 
In  brighter  flow ;  her  wishing  bosom  heaves  965 

With  palpitations  wild ;  kind  tumults  seize 
Her  veins,  and  all  her  yielding  soul  is  love. 
From  the  keen  gaze  her  lover  turns  away, 
Full  of  the  dear  ecstatic  power,  and  sick 


With  sighing  languishment.     Ah  then,  ye  fair, 


970 


Be  greatly  cautious  of  your  sliding  hearts. 
Dare  not  th'  infectious  sigh ;  the  pleading  look, 
Downcast  and  low,  in  meek  submission  dress'd,  < 
But  full  of  guile.     Let  not  the  fervent  tongue,    i 
Prompt  to  deceive,  with  adulation  smooth,  975 

Gain  on  your  purposed  will.     Nor  in  the  bower, 
Where  woodbines  flaunt,  and  roses  shed  a  couch, 
While  Evening  draws  her  crimson  curtains  round,' 
Trust  your  soft  minutes  with  betraying  man. 

And  let  th'  aspiring  youth  beware  of  love,  980 

Of  the  smooth  glance  beware ;  for  'tis  too  late, 
When  on  his  heart  the  torrent  softness  pours. 
Then  wisdom  prostrate  lies,  and  fading  fame 
Dissolves  in  air  away ;  while  the  fond  soul, 
Wrapp'd  in  gay  visions  of  unreal  bliss,  985 

Still  paints  th'  illusive  form ;  the  kindling  grace ;   j 
Th'  enticing  smile ;  the  modest-seeming  eye, 
Beneath  whose  beauteous  beams,  belying  heaven, 

Lurk  searchless  cunning,  cruelty,  and  death. 

J 

962.  Less  and  less:  The  color  of  the  "live  carnation"  becomes  less  in- 
tense the  farther  it  proceeds  from  the  centre  of  the  cheek. 

971.  Sliding:  Yielding — liable  to  be  drawn  from  a  virtuous  state. 


90  SPJKIXG. 

And  still,  false  warbling  in  his  cheated  ear,  990 

Her  siren  voice,  enchanting,  draws  him  on 
To  guileful  shores  and  meads  of  fatal  joy. 

E'en  present,  in  the  very  lap  of  love 
Inglorious  laid ;  while  music  flows  around, 
Perfumes,  and  oils,  and  wine,  and  wanton  hours ;  995 

Amid  the  roses,  fierce  Repentance  rears 
Her  snaky  crest :  a  quick  returning  pang 
Shoots  through  the  conscious  heart,  where  honor  still 
And  great  design,  against  th'  oppressive  load 
Of  luxury,  by  fits,  impatient  heave.  1000 

But  absent,  what  fantastic  woes,  aroused, 
Rage  in  each  thought,  by  restless  musing  fed, 
Chill  the  warm  cheek,  and  blast  the  bloom  of  life ! 
Neglected  fortune  flies  ;  and,  sliding  swift, 
Prone  into  ruin,  fall  his  scorn'd  affairs.  1005 

'Tis  naught  but  gloom  around :  the  darkened  sun 
Loses  his  light ;  the  rosy-bosomed  Spring 
To  weeping  fancy  pines ;  and  yon  bright  arch, 
Contracted,  bends  into  a  dusky  vault. 
All  Nature  fades  extinct;  and  she  alone,  1010 

Heard,  felt,  and  seen,  possesses  every  thought, 
Fills  every  sense,  and  pants  in  every  vein. 
Books  are  but  formal  dulness,xtedious  friends ; 
And  sad  amid  the  social  band  he  sits, 

991.  Siren:  Fascinating  and  dangerous;  the  term  being  derived  from 
the  classical  fable  of  the  Sirens,  two  maidens  who  dwelt  upon  an  island, 
and  when  vessels  passed  took  their  position  in  a  mead  close  to  the  sea- 
shore, and  poured  forth  from  their  sweet  voices  such  strains  of  melody  as 
caused  those  sailing  by  to  leave  their  vessels  and,  forgetting  country  and 
home,  and  every  thing  else,  to  remain  until  they  perished  with  hunger. 

993.  E'en  present:  Even  when  he  is  present  with  the  object  of  his 
passionate  regard  and  indulging  his  loose  desires,  his  pleasures  are  dis- 
turbed by  the  beginnings  of  Remorse.  Even  "  amid  the  roses,  fierce  Repen- 
tance rears  her  snaky  crest."  The  next  paragraph  portrays  the  unhappy 
condition  of  the  libertine  when  absent  from  the  object  of  his  guilty 
passion — "  the  enchantress  of  his  soul." 


SPRING.  91 

Lonely,  and  inattentive.     From  his  tongue  1015 

Th'  unfinished  period  falls ;  while,  borne  away 

On  swelling  thought,  his  wafted  spirit  flies 

To  the  vain  bosom  of  his  distant  fair ; 

And  leaves  the  semblance  of  a  lover,  fix'd    | 

In  melancholy  site,  with  head  declined,  1020 

And  love- dejected  eyes.     Sudden  he  starts, 

Shook  from  his  tender  trance,  and  restless  runs 

To  glimmering  shades  and  sympathetic  glooms ;     (3** 

Where  the  dun  umbrage  o'er  the  falling  stream, 

Romantic,  hangs.     There  through  the  pensive  dusk     1025 

Strays,  in  heart-thrilling  meditation  lost, 

Indulging  all  to  love  :  or  on  the  bank 

Thrown,  amid  drooping  lilies,  swells  the  breeze 

With  sighs  unceasing,  and  the  brook  with  tears. 

Thus  in  soft  anguish,  he  consumes  the  day,      ^s^     1030 

Nor  quits  his  deep  retirement,  till  the  moon 

Peeps  through  the  chambers  of  the  fleecy  east, 

Enlightened  by  degrees,  and  in  her  train 

Leads  on  the  gentle  Hours.     Then  forth  he  walks, 

Beneath  the  trembling  languish  of  her  beam,  1035 

With  softened  soul,  and  woos  the  bird  of  eve 

To  mingle  woes  with  his ;  or,  while  the  world  \ 

And  all  the  sons  of  Care  lie  hush'd  in  sleep, 

Associates  with  the  midnight  shadows  drear ; 

And,  sighing  to  the  lonely  taper,  pours  1040 

His  idly-tortured  heart  into  the  page, 

Meant  for  the  moving  messenger  of  love  ; 

Where  rapture  burns  on  rapture,  every  line 

With  rising  frenzy  fired.     But  if  on  bed 

Delirious  flung,  sleep  from  his  pillow  flies  ;>^  1045 

All  night  he  tosses,  nor  the  balmy  power 

In  any  posture  finds ;  till  the  gray  morn 

Lifts  her  pale  lustre  on  the  paler  wretch,  |  \ 

Exanimate  by  love ;  and  then  perhaps 


92  SPRING. 

Exhausted  Nature  sinks  a  while  to  rest,  1050 

Still  interrupted  by  distracted  dreams, 

That  o'er  the  sick  imagination  rise, 

And  in  black  colors  paint  the  mimic  scene. 

Oft  with  th'  enchantress  of  his  soul  he  talks  ; 

Sometimes  in  crowds  distressed  ;  or,  if  retired  1055 

To  secret  winding,  flower- enwoven  bowers, 

Far  from  the  dull  impertinence  of  man, 

Just  as  he,  credulous,  his  endless  cares 

Begins  to  lose  in  blind  oblivious  love, 

Snatch'd  from  her  yielded  hand,  he  knows  not  how,     1060 

Through  forests  huge,  and  long  untravell'd  heaths 

With  desolation  brown,  he  wanders  waste, 

In  night  and  tempest  wrapped  ;  or  shrinks  aghast, 

Back,  from  the  bending  precipice  ;  or  wades 

The  turbid  stream  below,  and  strives  to  reach  1065 

The  further  shore  ;  where  succorless  and  sad, 

She  with  extended  arms  his  aid  implores  ; 

But  strives  in  vain.     Borne  by  th'  outrageous  flood 

To  distance  down,  he  rides  the  ridgy  wave, 

Or,  whelm'd  beneath  the  boiling  eddy,  sinks.  1070 

THE  TORTURES  OF  JEALOUSY. 

These  are  the  charming  agonies  of  love, 
Whose  misery  delights.     But  through  the  heart, 
Should  jealousy  its  venom  once  diffuse, 
'Tis  then  delightful  misery  no  more, 

But  agony  unmix' d,  incessant  gall,  10 75 

Corroding  every  thought,  and  blasting  all 
Love's  paradise.     Ye  fairy  prospects,  then, 
Ye  beds  of  roses,  and  ye  bowers  of  joy, 
Farewell !  ye  gleamings  of  departed  peace, 
Shine  out  your  last!  the  yellow-tinging  plague  1080 

Internal  vision  taints,  and  in  a  night 


SPRING.  93 

Of  livid  gloom  imagination  wraps. 

Ah  !  then,  instead  of  love-enliven'd  cheeks, 

Of  sunny  features,  and  of  ardent  eyes, 

With  flowing  rapture  bright,  dark  looks  succeed,          1085 

Suffused  and  glaring  with  un tender  fire, 

A  clouded  aspect,  and  a  burning  cheek, 

Where  the  whole  poison'd  soul,  malignant,  sitsj 

And  frightens  love  away.     Ten  thousand  fears  1 

Invented  wild,  ten  thousand  frantic  views  1090 

Of  horrid  rivals,  hanging  on  the  charms 

For  which  he  melts  in  fondness,  eat  him  up 

With  fervent  anguish  and  consuming  rage. 

In  vain  reproaches  lend  their  idle  aid, 

Deceitful  pride,  and  resolution  frail,  1095 

Giving  false  peace  a  moment.     Fancy  pours, 

Afresh,  her  beauties  on  his  busy  thought, 

Her  first  endearments  twining  round  the  soul, 

With  all  the  witchcraft  of  ensnaring  love. 

Straight  the  fierce  storm  involves  his  mind  anew,          1100 

Flames  through  the  nerves,  and  boils  along  the  veins ;  -^IH 

While  anxious  doubt  distracts  the  tortured  heart ; 

For  e'en  the  sad  assurance  of  his  fears 

Were  ease  to  what  he  feels.     Thus  the  warm  youth, 

Whom  love  deludes  into  his  thorny  wilds,  1105 

Through  flowery-tempting  paths,  or  leads  a  life 

Of  fever'd  rapture  or  of  cruel  care  ; 

His  brightest  flames  extinguish'd  all,  and  all 

His  lively  moments  running  down  to  waste. 

THE   JOYS    OF    VIRTUOUS    AND    WEDDED    LOVE. 

But  happy  they  !  the  happiest  of  their  kind !  1110 

Whom  gentler  stars  unite,  and  in  one  fate 

1106.  Or:  Either. 

1111.  Gentler  stars  unite  :  The  expression  will  be  understood  when  it 


94:  SPRING. 

Their  hearts,  their  fortunes,  and  their  beings  blend. 

"Tis  not  the  coarser  tie  of  human  laws, 

Unnatural  oft  and  foreign  to  the  mind, 

That  binds  their  peace,  but  harmony  itself,  1115 

Attuning  all  their  passions  into  love  ; 

(Where  friendship  full  exerts  her  softest  power, 
Perfect  esteem  enliven'd  by  desire 
Ineffable,  and  sympathy  of  soul ; 

Thought  meeting  thought,  and  will  preventing  will,        1120 
With  boundless  confidence  :  for  naught  but  love 
Can  answer  love,  and  render  bliss  secure. 
Let  him,  ungenerous,  who,  alone  intent 
To  bless  himself,  from  sordid  parents  buys 
The  loathing  virgin,  in  eternal  care,  1125 

Well  merited,  consume  his  nights  and  days. 
Let  barbarous  nations,  whose  inhuman  love 
Is  wild  desire,  fierce  as  the  suns  they  feel ; 
Let  eastern  tyrants  from  the  light  of  heaven, 
Seclude  their  bosom-slaves,  meanly  possessed  1130 

Of  a  mere  lifeless,  violated  form  ; 
While  those,  whom  love  cements  in  holy  faith, 
And  equal  transport,  free  as  Nature  live, 
Disdaining  fear.     WThat  is  the  world  to  them, 
Its  pomp,  its  pleasure,  and  its  nonsense  all,  1135 

Who  in  each  other  clasp  whatever  fair 
High  Fancy  forms,  and  lavish  hearts  can  wish  ; 
Something  than  beauty  dearer,  should  they  look 

is  regarded  as  borrowed  from  the  now  exploded  doctrine  of  Astrology, 
which  affirms  that  the  course  of  human  life  is  affected  and  determined  by 
the  relative  position  of  the  stars,  the  sun,  and  planets,  at  one's  birth,  or 
at  any  other  critical  period  of  life.  Hence,  poetically,  the  gentler  stars 
— those  which  exert  a  benignant  influence,  are  here  described  as  bringing 
about  a  happy  union. 

1120.  Preventing  :  Going  before,  anticipating — the  wish  of  the  one 
party  being  not  only  met,  but  even  anticipated,  by  the  corresponding  vo- 
lition of  the  other  party. 


SPRING. 


95 


/fdfefc 

v-€X~f-tst 

1150 


Or  on  the  mind,  or  mind-illumined  face  ;  / 

Truth,  goodness,  honor,  harmony,  and  love,  i!40 

The  richest  bounty  of  indulgent  Heaven. 

Meantime  a  smiling  offspring  rises  round, 

And  mingles  both  their  graces.     By  degrees, 

The  human  blossom  blows  ;  and  every  day, 

Soft  as  it  rolls  along,  shows  some  new  charm,  I  1145 

The  father's  lustre,  and  the  mother's  bloom. 

Then  infant  reason  grows  apace,  and  calls 

For  the  kind  hand  of  an  assiduous  care. 

Delightful  task  !  to  rear  the  tender  thought, 

To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot, 

To  pour  the  fresh  instruction  o'er  the  mind, 

To  breathe  th'  enlivening  spirit,  and  to  fix 

The  generous  purpose  in  the  glowing  breast. 

Oh,  speak  the  joy  !  ye,  whom  the  sudden  tear 

Surprises  often,  while  you  look  around, 

And  nothing  strikes  your  eye  but  sights  of  bli& 

..       -    •&--•• J~      .  o.  ^ 

All  various  Nature  pressing  on  the  heart. 

JAn  elegant  sufficiency,  content, 

^Retirement,  rural  quiet,  friendship,  books, 
I  Ease  and  alternate  labor,  useful  life, 

Progressive  virtue,  and  approving  Heaven  ; 
|  These  are  the  matchless  joys  of  virtuous  love. 
I  And  thus  their  moments  fly.     The  Seasons  thus, 
lAs  ceaseless  round  a  jarring  world  they  roll, 

Still  find  them  happy;  and  consenting  SPRING  1165 

Sheds  her  own  rosy  garland  on  their  heads  : 

Till  evening  comes  at  last,  serene  and  mild  ; 

When  after  the  long  vernal  day  of  life, 


1155 


1160 


1149-1163.  These  beautiful  lines  give  us  Thomson's  conception  ot  tho 
elements  of  a  happy  life,  some  of  which  he  was  debarred  from  realizing 
in  his  own  experience  by  certain  reasons  which  induced  him  to  remain  a 
bachelor.  The  educational  process  is  described  with  great  felicity 


96  SPRING. 

Enamored  more,  as  more  remembrance  swells, 
With  many  a  proof  of  recollected  love,  1170 

^Together  down  they  sink  in  social  sleep  ; 
(Together  freed,  their  gentle  spirits  fly 
To  scenes  where  love  and  bliss  immortal  reign. 


SUMMER. 


INTEODUCTOEY  EEMAEKS. 

THE  period  of  Summer  is  marked  by  fewer  and  less  striking 
changes  than  Spring  in  the  face  of  Nature.  A  soft  and  pleas- 
ing languor,  interrupted  only  by  the  gradual  progression  of  the 
vegetable  and  animal  tribes  towards  their  state  of  maturity,  forms 
the  leading  character  of  this  season.  The  active  fermentation 
of  the  juices,  which  the  first  access  of  genial  warmth  had  ex- 
cited, now  subsides ;  and  the  increasing  heats  rather  inspire 
faintness  and  inaction  than  lively  exertions.  The  insect  races 
alone  seem  animated  with  peculiar  vigor  under  the  more  direct 
influence  of  the  sun ;  and  are  therefore  with  equal  truth  and 
advantage  introduced  by  the  poet  to  enliven  the  silent  and 
drooping  scenes  presented  by  the  other  forms  of  animal  nature. 
As  this  source,  however,  together  with  whatever  else  our  sum- 
mers afford,  is  insufficient  to  furnish  novelty  and  business  enough 
for  this  act  of  the  drama  of  the  year,  the  poet  judiciously  opens 
a  new  field,  profusely  fertile  in  objects  suited  to  the  glowing  col- 
ors of  descriptive  poetry.  By  an  easy  and  natural  transition  he 
quits  the  chastised  summer  of  the  temperate  clime  of  Britain  for 
those  regions  where  a  perpetual  Summer  reigns,  exalted  by  such 
superior  degrees  of  solar  heat  as  give  an  entirely  new  face  to 
almost  every  part  of  nature.  The  terrific  grandeur  prevalent 
in  some  of  these,  the  exquisite  richness  and  beauty  in  others, 
and  the  novelty  in  all,  afford  such  a  happy  variety  for  the  poet's 
selection,  that  we  need  not  wonder  if  some  of  his  noblest  pieces 
are  the  product  of  this  delightful  excursion. 

5 


100  SUMMER INTRODUCTORY    REMARKS. 

He  returns,  however,  with  apparent  satisfaction,  to  take  a  last 
survey  of  the  softer  summer  of  the  island  of  Britain  ;  and,  after 
closing  the  prospect  of  terrestrial  beauties,  artfully  shifts  the 
scene  to  celestial  splendors,  which,  though  perhaps  not  more 
striking  in  this  season  than  in  some  of  the  others,  are  now  alone 
agreeable  objects  of  contemplation  in  a  northern  climate. 

AIKIN. 

Summer  is  the  manhood  of  the  year.  Its  powers  are  devel- 
oped ;  its  vigor  is  fresh  ;  its  plans  are  matured  :  it  is  in  the  full 
flush  of  beauty,  and  buoyant  with  the  joy  and  bustle  of  exist- 
ence. Turn  where  we  will,  there  are  proofs  of  operations  begun 
and  in  progress,  which  indicate  design,  wisdom,  and  activity ; 
of  an  infancy  and  youth  spent  in  preparation,  and  ending  in 
settled  purposes  reduced  to  practice,  and  useful  employments 
industriously  prosecuted.  Such  is  the  general  character  of  this 
season ;  and  when  we  take  a  more  accurate  survey  of  particu- 
lars, a  thousand  delightful  illustrations  occur,  all  leading  us  to 
the  same  sublime  conclusion,  that  the  natural  operations  which 
are  silently  proceeding  around  us,  are  the  work  of  a  present 
Deity,  and  a  reflection  of  his  attributes.  In  the  sacred  poetry 
of  the  Hebrews  (particularly  in  the  hundred  and  fourth  Psalm), 
we  meet  with  many  solemn  and  beautiful  views,  which  show 
how  much  alive  the  inspired  writers  were  to  such  impressions. 

There  is  a  pleasure  peculiar  to  Spring  in  the  contemplation 
of  Nature  rising,  as  it  were,  from  the  tomb,  and  bursting  into 
life,  and  light,  and  joy  ;  but  that  which  belongs  to  Summer  is 
not  less  intense,  although  of  a  different  kind.  The  delight  of 
this  season  arises  from  the  view  of  the  full  development  or  suc- 
cessful progress  of  the  powers  and  processes  which  in  Spring 
began  to  operate.  The  plants  which  had  just  pierced  the  earth 
in  the  commencement  of  that  season  have  now  shot  forth  their 
stalks,  and  expanded  their  blades,  and  opened  their  beautiful 
flowers  to  the  sun  ;  the  trees  rejoice  in  their  leafy  pride  ;  the 
fields  luxuriate  in  the  abundance  of  their  vegetable  stores  ;  and 


8UMMEK INTKODFGTC'KY    ^E^LM^-S.  101 

animated  Nature  is  instinct  with  life  and  enjoyment.  The  whole 
scene  is  full  of  delight ;  but  it  is  only  when  it  is  associated  with 
religious  feelings,  and  when  it  raises  the  mind  to  a  Father  Being, 
who  called  all  this  loveliness  into  existence,  and  whose  unseen 
presence  and  mysterious  energies  cheer  and  bless  the  world  He 
has  made,  that  it  can  be  enjoyed  with  its  highest  and  most  ap- 
propriate relish.  'It  is  this  pious  sentiment  which  gives  such 
sublime  beauty  to  the  "  Hymn  on  the  Seasons"  (at  the  close  of 
this  volume) ;  and  perhaps  there  is  no  part  of  that  hymn  which 
more  successfully  expresses  the  tenderness  and  devout  admiration 
of  a  rightly  constituted  mind,  in  contemplating  the  wonders  of 
Nature,  than  that  which  refers  to  Summer. 

DUNCAN. 


THE  AEGUMENT. 

The  subject  proposed. — Invocation. — Address  to  Mr.  Doddington. — An  introductory 
reflection  on  the  motion  of  the  heavenly  bodies ;  whence  the  succession  of  the  sea- 
sons.— As  the  face  of  Nature  in  this  season  is  almost  uniform,  the  progress  of  the 
poem  is  a  description  of  a  summer's  day. — The  dawn. — Sun-rising. — Hymn  to  the 
sun. — Forenoon. — Summer  insects  described.— Hay-making. — Sheep-shearing.— Noon- 
day.— A  woodland  retreat. — Group  of  herds  and  flocks. — Ajsolemn  grovgj^how.  it 
affects  a  contemplative  mind. — A  cataract,  and  rude  scene. — View  of  Summer  in  tho 
tojSid^neT::::Storrn  of  thuncfer  and  lightning.— A  tale.— The  storm  over,  a  serene 
afternoon.— Bathing.— Hour  of  walking.— Transition  to  the  prospect  of  a  rich,  well-cul- 
tivated country;  which  introduces  a  panegyric  on  Great  Britain.— Sunset— Evening. — 
Night— Summer  meteors.— A  comet— The  whole  concluding  with  the  praise  of  phi- 
losophy. 


FROM  brightening  fields  of  ether  fair  disclosed, 

Child  of  the  Sun,  refulgent  SUMMER  comes, 

! 
In  pride  of  youth,  and  felt  through  Nature's  depth.; 

He  comes  attended  by  the  sultry  Hours, 
And  ever-fanning  Breezes,  on  his  way  ; 
While,  from  his  ardent  look,  the  turning  Spring 
Averts,  her  blushful  face,  and  earth  and  skies, 
All  smiling,  to  his  hot  dominion  leaves. 

1-8.  Who  can  fail  to  admire  the  beautiful  personification  of  Summer 
in  these  lines,  so  far  superior  to  the  personification  of  Spring  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  poem  ?  Most  appropriately  is  Summer  described  as 
the  "  child  of  the  Sun,"  and  as  coming  "  from  brightening  fields  of  ether" 
(used  by  Thomson  in  the  ^sense  of  atmosphere) :  since,  as  a  season,  it 
owes  its  distinguishing  features  to  the  advancing  light  and  heat  of  the 


104 


SUMMER. 


Hence,  let  me  haste  into  the  midwood  shade, 
.    Where  scarce  a  sunbeam  wanders  through  the  gloom ;     10 
And,  on  the  dark-green  grass,  beside  the  brink 
I  Of  haunted  stream  that  by  the  roots  of  oak 
Rolls  o'er  the  rocky  channel,  lie  at  large, 
And  sing  the  glories  of  the  circling  year. 

Come,  Inspiration  !  from  thy  hermit-seat,  15 

/  By  mortal  seldom  found  :  may  fancy  dare, 

sun.  It  is  also  characterized  as  being  "  in  the  pride  of  youth,"  the  dif- 
ferent seasons  beginning  with  Spring,  bearing  a  close  and  striking  anal- 
ogy, in  their  order,  to  the  four  grand  periods  of  human  life.  His  at- 
tendants are  the  sultry  Hours  and  ever-fanning  Breezes ;  while  Spring 
modestly  turns  away  her  face  from  his  ardent  look,  and  resigns  the 
earth  and  skies  to  his  "  hot  dominion." 

6-8.  If  Winter,  according  to  the  poet,  mingles  at  first  so  much  with 
Spring  as  to  render  it  doubtful  if  the  reign  of  the  latter  be  commenced — 

"  so  that  scarce 

The  bittern  knows  his  time,  with  bill  ingulf  d, 
To  shake  the  sounding  marsh ;  or,  from  the  shore, 
The  plovers  when  to  scatter  o'er  the  heath, 
And  sing  their  wild-notes  to  the  listening  waste" — 

so  it  must  be  difficult  to  say  when  Spring  ceases,  and  Summer  comes ; 
but  the  figurative  Thomson  reads  this  at  once  in  the  averted  and  blush- 
ing face  of  the  virgin  Spring,  who  modestly  retires  and  makes  way  for 
her  ardent  successor. 

This  is  a  remark  of  Allan  Cunningham,  but  is  not  strictly  applicable  to 
the  text,  though  Thomson,  for  the  sake  of  consistency  and  nature,  should 
have  made  his  text  conformable  to  it — by  impersonating  Spring  as  a 
female.  '  Prof.  Wilson  playfully  alludes  to  the  matter  in  these  terms  : — 
"  The  poet,  having  made  Summer  masculine,  makes  Spring  so  too,  which 
we  cannot  help  thinking  a  flaw  in  this  jewel  of  a  picture.  Ladies  alone 
should  avert  their  blushful  faces  from  the  ardent  looks  of  gentlemen. 
Spring,  in  the  character  of  *  ethereal  Mildness,'  was  unquestionably  a 
female,  but  here  she  is  '  unsexed  from  the  crown  to  the  toe.'  For  Spring 
to  avert  his  blushful  face  from  the  ardent  looks  of  Summer,  has  on  us 
the  effect  of  making  both  seasons  seem  simpletons." 

12.  Haunted  stream:  Stream  frequented  by  fairies,  ghosts,  and  other 
imaginary  beings  that  fancy  and  superstition  have  begotten. 

15.  Inspiration:  An  imaginary  divinity,  to  whom,  with  the  license  of 
a  poet,  he  looks  for  poetic  spirit,  invention,  and  skill  in  the  construction 
of  his  verse.  It  is  more  common,  for  such  a  purpose,  to  address  tho 
Muse  ;  and  to  her,  indeed,  the  author  refers  in  the  twenty-first  line. 


SUMMER. 


105 


From  thy  fix'd,  serious  eye,  and  raptured  glance 
Shot  on  surrounding  heaven,  to  steal  one  look 
Creative  of  the  Poet,  every  power 
Exalting  to  an  ecstasy  of  soul. 

And  thou,  my  youthful  Muse's  early  friend, 
In  whom  the  human  graces  all  unite  : 
Pure  light  of  mind,  and  tenderness  of  heart ; 
Genius,  and  wisdom  ;  the  gay  social  sense, 
By  decency  chastised  ;  goodness  and  wit, 
In  seldom-meeting  harmony  combined  ; 
Unblemish'd  honor,  and  an  active  zeal 
For  Britain's  glory,  liberty,  and  man ; 
0  Doddington  !  attend  my  rural  song, 
Stoop  to  my  theme,  inspirit  every  line, 
And  teach  me  to  deserve  thy  just  applause. 

With  what  an  awful  world-revolving  power,  \ 
Were  first  th'  unwieldy  planets  launch'd  -1 

I  Th'  illimitable  void  !  thus  to  remain, 
Amid  the  flux  of  many  thousand  years, 
That  oft  has  swept  the  toiling  race  of  men 
And  all  their  labor'd  monuments  away  ; 
Firm,  unremitting,  matchless,  in  their  course  ; 
To  the  kind-temper'd  change  of  night  and  day, 
And  of  the  seasons  ever  stealing  round, 

J  Minutely  faithful.     Such  th'  All-perfect  Hand,  < 
That  poised,  impels,  and  rules  the  steady  whole 


20 


25 


Ji*s^** 


30 


35 


40 
Urv^J 


29.  Doddington  :  The  character  and  standing  of  this  gentleman  are 
fully  drawn  in  the  above  lines,  and  also,  perhaps  with  considerable  ex- 
aggeration, in  the  Dedication  originally  prefixed  to  this  part  of  the 
poem.  It  is  to  be  conceded  that  Thomson,  for  the  sake  of  needed  pat- 
ronage, condescended  to  imitate  the  then  common  but  undignified  prac- 
tice of  sending  forth  a  poem  under  the  auspices  of  a  highly  compliment- 
ary and  flattering  dedication.  Hazlitt  tells  us,  however,  that  Thomson 
on  his  death-bed  expressed  a  wish  that  this  dedication  had  been  ex 
punged. 

41.  Minutely  faithful  :    Among  the  wonders   of  Astronomy,  and   of 


106  SUMMER. 

When  now  no  more  th'  alternate  Twins  are  fired, 
And  Cancer  reddens  with  the  solar  blaze, 
Short  is  the  doubtful  empire  of  the  night :  45 

.And  soon,  observant,  of  approaching  day, 


THE  CHARMS  OF  EARLY  MORN. 

jr. 

^/  )The  meek-eyed  Morn  appears,  mother  of  dews, 
/\|  At  first  faint  gleaming  in  the  dappled  east ; 

Divine  Power  and  Wisdom,  is  the  fact  here  noted,  that  notwithstanding 
the  magnificence  of  the  scale  on  which  the  celestial  bodies  move — the 
vast  spaces  in  which  they  perform  their  revolutions — there  is  yet  such 
wonderful  exactness  and  order,  that  their  positions  at  any  assigned 
period  can  be  unerringly  calculated.  Thomson  particularly  refers  to  the 
wise  arrangement  for  securing  the  alternation  of  day  and  night  (by  the 
diurnal  motion  of  the  earth),  and  for  securing  the  change  of  seasons  (by 
its  annual  motion).  The  calculation  of  the  eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon, 
and  of  Jupiter's  satellites,  that  may  be  made  for  years  and  ages  in  ad- 
vance, and  the  times  of  which  shall  be  exactly  verified  by  the  event, 
prove  the  matchless  order  that  prevails  amid  the  apparent  irregularities 
and  complexities  of  the  Solar  System. 

43.  Alternate  Twins  :  Gemini,  that  constellation  of  the  Zodiac  which 
the  sun  appears  to  enter  about  the  21st  of  May.     It  is  distinguished  by 
two  bright  stars  called  Castor  and  Pollux,  whence  the  constellation  re- 
ceived its  name.     The  epithet  alternate  is  not  descriptive  of  these  stars, 
but  merely  allusive  to  the  classical  fable   of  the  twin-brothers  whose 
names  are  given  to  these  stars  and  to  the  constellation  in  which  they  are 
found.     Castor  having  been  slain,  Pollux  bewailed  his  loss.     Having  in 
prayer  spread  out  his  griefs  before  Jupiter,  the  choice  was  proposed  to 
him  of  being  himself  elevated  to  Olympus  and  sharing  with  Mars  and 
Minerva  the  pleasures  of  the  gods  constantly,  or  of  dividing  them  with 
his  deceased  brother — Castor  and   Pollux  spending  day  and  day  alter- 
nately in  heaven  and  beneath  the  earth.    Pollux  chose  the  latter  arrange- 
ment, and  thus  generously  resigned  to  his  brother  the    enjoyment  of 
heaven  every  alternate  day. 

44.  Cancer  (the  Crab)  :  That  constellation  which  the  Sun  appears  to 
enter  about  the  21st  of  June,  when  the  nights  are  shortest,  and  when  it 
is  of  doubtful  propriety  to  speak  of  the  "empire"  of  the  night  at  all 
In  the  high  latitude  of  Britain,  the  evening  twilight  extends  to  so  late  an 
hour  in*  the  night,  and  the  morning  twilight  commences  at  so  early  an 
hour  in  the  morning,  that  not  more,  perhaps,  than  three  hours  can  be  de- 
nominated night 


SUMMER.  107 

\  Till  far  o'er  ether  spreads  the  widening  glow, 

I  And,  from  before  the  lustre  of  her  face,  50 

/  White  break  the  clouds  away.     With  quicken'd  step, 

Brown  Night  retires  ;  young  Day  pours  in  apace, 

And  opens  all  the  lawny  prospect  wide. 

The  dripping  rock,  the  mountain's  misty  top, 

Swell  on  the  sight,  and  brighten  with  the  daAvn.  55 

Blue,  through  the  dusk,  the  smoking  currents  shine, 

And  from  the  bladed  field  the  fearful  hare 

Limps,  awkward  ;  while  along  the  forest  glade, 

The  wild  deer  trip,  and  often  turning,  gaze 

At  early  passenger.     Music  awakes  60 

The  native  voice  of  undissembled  joy  ; 

And  thick  around  the  woodland,  hymns  arise. 

Roused  by  the  cock,  the  soon- clad  shepherd  leaves 
s   His  mossy  cottage,  where  with  peace  he  dwells  ; 

And  from  the  crowded  fold,  in  order,  drives  65 

His  flock,  to  taste  the  verdure  of  the  morn. 
Falsely  luxurious  !  will  not  man  awake, 


47.  A  most  beautiful  line  !  The  meek-eyed  Morn  is  called  the  mother 
of  dews  because  the  Dews  are  most  copious  in  the  earliest  hours  of  morn 
— in  the  morning  twilight. 

51-66.  Amid  the  landscape  glow  of  this  season,  there  are  many  pic- 
tures of  individual  loveliness  which  stand  distinct  and  alone :  that  of  the 
morning  is  as  true  as  it  is  clear. — C. 

52.  Brown  Night :  The  fitness  of  this  epithet,  instead  of  black,  will  be 
discovered  by  reference  to  note  on  44.  The  personification  of  Night  and 
Day  gives  to  the  description  great  vivacity  and  beauty. 

67-80.  Falsely  luxurious,  (fee. :  The  appeal  to  the  indolent  expressed 
in  these  lines  is  an  eloquent  and  just  one,  but  generally,  alas  !  unheeded 
by  those  whose  business  does  not  require  them  to  leave  the  bed  at  so 
early  an  hour.  The  poet,  if  report  be  true,  did  not  sufficiently  feel  the 
force  of  it  to  act  upon  it,  but  was  a  "  falsely  luxurious  man."  u  Never 
before  or  since"  (Hugh  Miller  remarks)  "  was  there  a  man  of  genius 
•wrought  out  of  such  mild  and  sluggish  elements  as  the  bard  of  the 
*  Seasons:  A  listless  man  was  James  Thomson  ;  kindly-hearted  ;  much 
loved  by  all  his  friends;  little  given  to  think  of  himself;  'more  fat 
than  "Jwee^L  beseems.'  And  to  Hagley  he  used  to  come,  as  Shenstone 


108  SUMMER. 

And,  springing  from  the  bed  of  sloth,  enjoy 

The  cool,  the  fragrant,  and  the  silent  hour, 

To  meditation  due  and  sacred  song  ?  ?0 

For  is  there  aught  in  sleep  can  charm  the  wise 

To  lie  in  dead  oblivion,  losing  half 

The  fleeting  moments  of  too  short  a  life  ? 

(Total  extinction  of  th'  enlightened  soul  !) 

Or  else,  to  feverish  vanity  alive,  75 

Wilder'd,  and  tossing  through  distemper'd  dreams  ? 

Who  would  in  such  a  gloomy  state  remain 

Longer  than  Nature  craves  ;  when  every  Muse 

And  every  blooming  pleasure  wait  without, 

To  bless  the  wildly  devious  morning  walk  ?  80 


THE    POWERFUL    KING    OF    DAY. 


But  yonder  comes  the  powerful  King  of  day, 
Rejoicing  in  the  east.     The  lessening  cloud, 
The  kindling  azure,  and  the  mountain's  brow 
Illumed  with  fluid  gold,  his  near  approach 
Betoken  glad.     Lo  !  now,  apparent  all,  85 

Aslant  the  dew-bright  earth,  and  color'd  air, 
He  looks  in  boundless  majesty  abroad  ; 


tells  us,  in  a  hired  chaise,  drawn  by  two  horses  ranged  lengthwise,  to  lie 
a-bed  till  long  past  raid-day,  because  he  had  'no  motive'  to  rise  ;  and  to 
browse  in  the  gardens  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  peaches,  with  his  hands 
stuck  in  his  pockets."  Let  not  this  account  of  the  author  detract,  how- 
ever, from  the  legitimate  influence  of  his  admirable  appeal  in  behalf  of 
early -rising ;  and  let  it  be  remembered  that  no  corporeal  habit  should  be 
more  earnestly  and  deservedly  recommended  to  be  formed  in  early  life. 
Biography  teems  with  examples  of  the  great  achievements  wrought  in 
art,  science,  literature,  and  religion  in  consequence  of  the  formation  of 
this  habit.  Life  is  too  short  to  waste  any  of  it  beyond  what  Nature 
craves,  "  in  dead  oblivion." 

78.  Every  Muse  :  The  idea  is,  that  an  early  walk  will  afford  to  the 
poet  some  happy  images  and  thoughts — will  give  an  impulse  to  compose 
in  lofty  verse. 


.-. 

09 


v*u***~3 

And  sheds  the  shining  day,  that  burnish'd  plays 
On  rocks,  and  hills,  and  towers,  and  wandering  streams) 
High  gleaming  from  afar.     Prime  cheerer,  Light !          1  90 
Of  all  material  beings  first  and  best ! 
Efflux  divine  !  Nature's  resplendent  robe  ! 
Without  whose  vesting  beauty  all  were  wrapp'd 
In  unessential  gloom  !  and  thou,  0  Sun  ! 
Soul  of  surrounding  worlds  !  in  whom  best  seen  95 

Shines  out  thy  Maker  !  may  I  sing  of  thee  ? 
'Tis  by  thy  secret,  strong,  attractive  force, 
As  with  a  chain  indissoluble  bound, 
Thy  system  rolls  entire  ;  from  the  far  bourne 
Of  utmost  Saturn,  wheeling  wide  his  round  100 


92.  Efflux  divine:  Or,  as  Milton  more  fully  denominates  it,  "bright 
effluence  of  bright  essence  increate."  The  entire  description  of  the  blind 
bard  may  with  great  advantage  to  the  reader  be  here  subjoined : 

Hail,  holy  Light !  offspring  of  heaven  first-born, 

Or  of  th'  Eternal  coeternal  beam 

May  I  express  thee,  unblamed  ?    Since  God  is  light, 

And  never  but  in  unapproached  light 

Dwelt  from  eternity,  dwelt  then  in  thee, 

Bright  effluence  of  bright  essence  iucreate. 

Or  nearest  thou  rather  pure  ethereal  stream, 

Whose  fountain  who  shall  tell  ?     Before  the  sun, 

Before  the  heavens  thou  wert,  and  at  the  voice 

Of  God,  as  with  a  mantle  didst  invest 

The  rising  world  of  waters  dark  and  deep, 

"Won  from  the  void  and  formless  infinre. 

Par.  Lost,  Bk.  III. 

100.  Utmost  Saturn  :  When  this  poem  was  written  (1727),  no  planet 
more  remote  than  Saturn  had  been  discovered.  Herschel  and  Neptune 
have  since  been  brought  to  view,  wheeling  their  vastly  more  magnificent 
rounds.  While  the  revolution  of  Saturn  requires  10,759  days,  that  of 
Herschel  embraces  30,759,  and  Neptune  occupies  60,128.  Each  of  these 
two  latter  planets  has  a  diameter  of  35,000  English  miles ;  that  of  Saturn 
being  79,000.  The  mean  distances  from  the  sun  at  which  these  planets 
describe  their  enormous  orbits  may  be  profitably  adduced,  to  give  us 
more  just  conceptions  "  of  the  strong,  attractive  force"  of  the  sun.  Sat- 
urn revolves  at  the  distance  of  900,000,000  miles  ;  Herschel,  1,800,000,000 ; 
Neptune,  2,850,000,000.  How  appropriately  does  the  poet  denominate 
the  Sun  the  powerful  King  of  day,  drawing  those  stupendous  bodies,  amf 


110  SUMMER. 

Of  thirty  years,  to  Mercury,  whoso  disR 
Can  scarce  be  caught  by  philosophic  eye, 
Lost  in  the  near  effulgence  of  thy  blaze. 
Informer  of  the  planetary  train  ! 

Without  whose  quickening  glance  their  cumbrous  orbs    105 
Were  brute,  unlovely  mass,  inert  and  dead, 
And  not,  as  now,  the  green  abodes  of  life  ! 
How  many  forms  of  being  wait  on  thee, 
Inhaling  spirit,  from  th'  unfettered  mind, 
By  thee  sublimed,  down  to  the  daily  race,  110 

The  mixing  myriads  of  thy  setting  beam  ! 
The  vegetable  world  is  also  thine, 

O  ' 

Parent  of  Seasons  !  which  the  pomp  precede, 

That  waits  thy  throne,  as  through  thy  vast  domain, 

Annual,  along  the  bright  ecliptic  road,  115 

In  world-rejoicing  state,  it  moves  sublime. 

Meantime  th'  expecting  nations,  circled  gay 

With  all  the  various  tribes  of  foodful  earth, 

Implore  thy  bounty,  or  send  grateful  up 

A  common  hymn  ;  while,  round  the  beaming  car,  t         120 

High  seen,  the  Seasons  lead,  in  sprightly  dance, 

preventing  them,  by  his  attractive  force,  from  abandoning,  in  their  rapid 
course,  the  comprehensive  curves  assigned  them  ! 

104.  Informer,  &c. :  The  meaning  of  this  term  as  used  here,  and  by 
poets  generally,  is  that  of  animating  principle,  proximate  source  of  life — 
or  the  instrument  by  which  vitality  is  communicated  to  the  planetary 
worlds,  or  by  which  they  are  made  "  the  green  abodes  of  life."  The 
same  idea  has  been  given  above  in  the  expression,  "  Soul  of  surrounding 
worlds,"  and  is  illustrated  at  length  in  this  and  several  succeeding  para- 
graphs. 

113-129.  Parent  of  Seasons  :  The  apparent  march  of  the  sun  in  the 
ecliptic  gives  us  our  seasons.  It  is  here  represented  as  a  triumphal  pro- 
cession. The  Sun  is  making  an  annual  tour  in  his  beaming  car,  as  a  royal 
benefactor,  with  great  pomp  and  majesty.  Above  and  around,  the  Sea- 
sons are  leading,  in  sprightly  dance  and  harmonious  union,  the  rosy-fin- 
gered Hours,  the  Zephyrs,  the  Rains,  the  Dews,  and  the  milder  Storms. 
The  passage  owes  its  great  beauty  to  the  skilful  use  of  the  figure  of 
Personification,  applied  to  the  Sun,  the  Seasons,  the  Hours,  <fec. 


SUMMER.  Ill 

Harmonious  knit,  the  rosy-finger'd  Hours,   '  ' 

The  Zephyrs  floating  loose,  the  timely  Rains, 

Of  bloom  ethereal  the  light-footed  Dews, 

And  soften'd  into  joy  the  surly  Storms.  125 

These,  in  successive  turn,  with  lavish  hand, 
f    Shower  every  beauty,  every  fragrance  shower, 
I    Herbs,  flowers,  and  fruits  ;  till,  kindling  at  thy  touch, 

From  land  to  land  is  flush'd  the  vernal  year. 

Nor  to  the  surface  of  enliven'd  earth,  130 

Graceful  with  hills  and  dales,  and  leafy  woods, 

Her  liberal  tresses,  is  thy  force  confined  ; 

But,  to  the  bowell'd  cavern  darting  deep, 

The  mineral  kinds  confess  thy  mighty  power. 
^j^Effulgent,  hence  the  veiny  marble  shines  ;  135 

Hence  Labor  draws  his  tools  ;  hence  burnish'd  War 

Gleams  on  the  day  ;  the  nobler  works  of  Peace 

Hence  bless  mankind,  and  generous  Commerce  binds 

The  round  of  nations  in  a  golden  chain. 

Th'  unfruitful  rock  itself,  impregn'd  by  thee,  140 


129.  Is  flushed  the  vernal  year:  Is  made  to  burst  forth  the  year  in 
Spring :  the  year  is  arrayed  in  the  gay  abundance  of  her  Spring 
season. 

133.  The  poet  rather  exaggerates  the  power  of  the  Sun,  by  ascribing 
to  it  the  metallic  and  mineral  riches  beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
His  theory  also  of  the  formation  of  the  diamond  (140-1)  is  a  mere  poeti- 
cal fancy.  Its  surpassing  brilliancy  justifies,  however,  the  author  in  de- 
fining it  "  collected  light."  Its  superior  hardness  proves  also  its  com- 
pactness. Next  to  the  diamond  in  hardness  and  value  is  the  Ruby  (147); 
its  color  being  a  bright  red,  sometimes  tending  to  a  violet.  The  Sapphire 
(149),  another  valuable  stone,  from  its  bluish,  azure  hue,  is  not  unaptly 
denominated  solid  ether.  Those  that  follow  are  sufficiently  described  by 
our  author:  yet  in  regard  to  the  Opal  (156),  a  word  of  explanation  may 
be  needed.  The  statement  is,  that  all  the  several  rays  of  the  sun  com- 
bined play  through  the  opal :  that  is,  the  opal  in  a  certain  position  trans- 
mits white  light,  whereas  the  other  precious  stones  (except  the  diamond) 
transmit  only  a  portion  of  the  sunbeam — some  the  green,  <fcc.  The 
opal  in  another  site,  or  position,  reflects  to  the  eye  a  variety  of  delicate 
hues. 


112  SDMMEE. 


In  dark  retirement  forms  the  lucid  stone. 
The  lively  Diamond  drinks  thy  purest  rays, 
Collected  light,  compact  ;  that,  polish'd  bright, 
(  And  all  its  native  lustre  let  abroad, 

Dares,  as  it  sparkles  on  the  fair  one's  breast,  145 

With  vain  ambition  emulate  her  eyes. 
At  thee  the  Ruby  lights  its  deepening  glow, 
And  with  a  waving  radiance  inward  flames. 
From  thee  the  Sapphire,  solid  ether,  takes 
Its  hue  cerulean  ;  and,  of  evening  tinct,  150 

The  purple-streaming  Amethyst  is  thine. 
With  thy  own  smile  the  yellow  Topaz  burns. 
Nor  deeper  verdure  dyes  the  robe  of  Spring, 
When  first  she  gives  it  to  the  southern  gale, 
Than  the  green  Emerald  shows.     But,  all  combined,      155 
Thick  through  the  whitening  Opal  play  thy  beams  ; 
Or,  flying  several  from  its  surface,  form 
A  trembling  variance  of  revolving  hues, 
As  the  site  varies  in  the  gazer's  hand. 

The  very  dead  creation,  from  thy  touch,  160 

Assumes  a  mimic  life.     By  thee  refined, 
In  brighter  mazes  the  relucent  stream 
Plays  o'er  the  mead.     Tne  precipice  abrupt, 
Projecting  horror  on  the  blacken'd  flood, 
Softens  at  thy  return.     The  desert  joys,  165 

Wildly,  through  all  his  melancholy  bounds. 
Rude  ruins  glitter  ;  and  the  briny  deep, 
Seen  from  some  pointed  promontory's  top, 
Far  to  the  blue  horizon's  utmost  verge,     "' 
Restless,  reflects  a  floating  gleam.     But  this,  170 

And  all  the  much  transported  Muse  can  sing, 
Are  to  thy  beauty,  dignity,  and  use, 


150.  The  Amethyst  is  of  evening  tinct,  or  of  the  color  that  early  evening 
assumes. 


SUMMER.  113 


Unequal  far  ;  great  delegated  source 

Of  ]ight,  and  life,  and  grace,  and  joy  below  ! 


THE  ETERNAL  CAUSE,  SUPPORT,  AND  END  OF  CREATION.  X 


How  shall  I  then  attempt  to  sing  of  HIM,  175 

Who,  LIGHT  HIMSELF,  in  uncreated  light 
Invested  deep,  dwells  awfully  retired  Ww 

From  mortal  eye,  or  angel's  purer  ken  ! 
Whose  single  smile  has,  from  the  first  of  time, 
Fill'd  overflowing,  all  those  lamps  of  heaven,  180 

That  beam  forever  through  the  boundless  sky : 
But,  should  He  hide  his  face,  th'  astonish'd  sun 
And  all  th'  extinguished  stars  would  loosening  reel 
Wide  from  their  spheres,  and  Chaos  come  again.  &^~ 
/And  yet  was  ev'ry  faltering  tongue  of  man,  185 

ALMIGHTY  FATHER  !  silent  in  thy  praise  ; 
Thy  Works  themselves  would  raise  a  general  voice, 
E'en  in  the  depth  of  solitary  woods 
By  human  foot  untrod  ;  proclaim  thy  power, 
And  to  the  choir  celestial  THEE  resound,  190 

Th'  eternal  cause,  support,  and  end  of  all ! 

T2jn&-hfi  Nature's  volume  broad  display'd  ; 
And  to  peruse  its  all-instructing  page, 
Or,  haply  catching  inspiration  thence, 

Some  easy  passage  raptured  to  translate,  195 

My  sole  delight ;  as  through  the  falling  glooms 
Pensive  I  stray,  or  with  the  rising  dawn 
On  Fancy's  eagle  wing  excursive  soar. 


178-180.  I  cannot  forbear  to  call  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the 
original  and  exquisite  manner  in  which  the  illumination  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  is  here  accounted  for.  The  conception  is  one  that  none  but  a  man 
of  poetic  genius  could  have  formed,  and  so  happily  expressed 


114  SUMMER. 


THE    SUMMER    FORENOON. 

Now,  flaming  up  the  heavens,  the  potent  sun  \ 
Melts  into  limpid  air 'the  high-raised  clouds, 
And  morning  fogs,  that  hover'd  round  the  hills 

jx  In  partvj-cplpr'd  bands  ;  till  wide  unveil'd, 

The  face  of  Nature  shines,  from  where  earth  seems, 
Far  stretch'd  around,  to  meet  the  bending  sphere. 
§     Half  in  a  blush  of  clustering  roses  lost, 
[Dew-dropping  Coolness  to  the  shade  retires ; 
There,  on  the  verdant  turf,  or  flowery  bed, 
By  gelid  founts  and  careless  rills  to  muse  ; 
While  tyrant  Heat,  dispreading  through  the  sky, 
With  rapid  sway,  his  burning  influence  darts 
On  man  and  beast,  and  herb  and  tepid  stream. 
Who  can  unpitying  see  the  flowery  race, 
Shed  by  the  morn,  their  new-flush'd  bloom  resign, 
Before  the  parching  beam  ?     So  fade  the  fair, 
When  fevers  revel  through  their  azure  veins. 
But  one,  the  lofty  follower  of  the  sun, 
Sad  when  he  sets,  shuts  up  her  yellow  leaves, 
Drooping  all  night ;  and,  when  he  warm  returns, 
Points  her  enamor'd  bosom  to  his  ray. 

Home,  from  his  morning  task,  the  swain  retreats, 
His  flock  before  him  stepping  to  the  fold ; 
While  the  full-udder'd  mother  lows  around 
The  cheerful  cottage,  then  expecting  food, 
The  food  of  innocence  and  health  !     The  daw, 

'/'The  rook  and  magpie,  to  the  gray-grown  oaks 
That  the  calm  village  in  their  verdant  arms, 
Sheltering,  embrace,  direct  their  lazy  flight ; 
Where  on  the  mingling  boughs  they  sit  embower'd, 
All  the  hot  noon,  till  cooler  hours  arise. 

216.  One:  The  sun-flower. 


SUMMEE.  115 

Faint,  underneath,  the  household  fowls  convene ;  230 

-  And,  in  a  corner  of  the  buzzJBgL.shadjey 
The  house-dog  with  the  vacant  grayhound  lies, 
Outstretch'd  and  sleepy.     In  his  slumbers  one 
Attacks  the  nightly  thief,  and  one  exults 
O'er  hill  and  dale;  till,  waken'd  by  the  wasp,  235  ' 

They  starting  snap.     Nor  shall  the  Muse  disdain 
To  let  the  little  noisy  summer  race 
Live  in  her  lay,  and  flutter  through  her  song ; 
Not  mean  though  simple.     To  the  sun  allied, 
From  him  they  draw  their  animating  fire.  240 

SUMMER    INSECTS. 

Waked  by  his  warmer  ray,  the  reptile  young 
Come  wing'd  abroad  ;  by  the  light  air  upborne, 
Lighter,  and  full  of  soul.     From  every  chink, 
And  secret  corner,  where  they  slept  away 
The  wintry  storms ;  or,  rising  from  their  tombs,  245 

To  higher  life ;  by  myriads,  forth  at  once, 
Swarming  they  pour ;  of  all  the  varied  hues 
Their  beauty-beaming  parent  can  disclose, 
Ten  thousand  forms,  ten  thousand  different  tribes 
People  the  blaze.     To  sunny  waters  some  250 

By  fatal  instinct  fly ;  where  on  the  pool 
They  sportive  wheel :  or,  sailing  down  the  stream, 
Are  snatch'd  immediate  by  the  quick-eyed  trout, 
Or  darting  salmon.     Through  the  greenwood  glade, 
Some  love  to  stray ;  there  lodged,  amused,  and  fed,       255 
In  the  fresh  leaf.     Luxurious,  others  make 
The  meads  their  choice,  and  visit  every  flower 
And  every  latent  herb  ;  for  the  sweet  task 
To  propagate  their  kinds,  and  where  to  wrap, 
In  what  soft  beds,  their  young  yet  undisclosed,  260 

Employs  their  tender  care.     Some  to  the  house, 


116  SUMMER. 

The  fold  and  dairy,  hungry,  bend  their  flight ; 

Sip  round  the  pail,  or  taste  the  curdling  cheesei 

Oft,  inadvertent,  from  the  milky  stream 

They  meet  their  fate ;  or,  weltering  in  the  bowl,  265 

With  powerless  wings  around  them  wrapp'd,  expire. 

But_cliief_to  heedless  flies,  the  window  proves 
A  constant  death  ;  where  gloomily  retired, 
The  villain  spider  lives,  cunning  and  fierce, 
(Mixture  abhorr'd  !)     Amid  a  mangled  heap  2*70 

Of  carcasses,  in  eager  watch  he  sits, 
Overlooking  all  his  waving  snares  around. 
Near  the  dire  cell  the  dreadless  wanderer  oft 
Passes,  as  oft  the  ruffian  shows  his  front. 
The  prey  at  last  ensnared,  he  dreadful  darts,  275 

With  rapid  glide,  along  the  leaning  line ; 
And,  fixing  in  the  wretch  his  cruel  fangs, 
Strikes  backward,  grimly  pleased.     The  fluttering  wing 
And  shriller  sound  declare  extreme  distress, 
And  ask  the  helping,  hospitable  hand.  280 

"Resounds  the  living  surface  of  the  ground ; 
Nor  undelightful  is  the  ceaseless  hum 
To  him  who  muses  through  the  woods  at  noon ; 
Or  drowsy  shepherd,  as  he  lies  reclined, 
With  half-shut  eyes,  beneath  the  floating  shade  285 

Of  willows  gray,  close  crowding  o'er  the  brook. 

Gradual  from  these  what  numerous  kinds  descend, 
Evading  e'en  the  microscopic  eye ! 
Full  Nature  swarms  with  life ;  one  wondrous  mass 
Of  animals,  or  atoms  organized,  290 

Waiting  the  vital  breath,  when  parent  Heaven 
Shall  bid  his  spirit  blow.     The  hoary  fen, 
In  putrid  streams,  emits  the  living  cloud 
Of  pestilence.     Through  subterranean  cells, 
Where  searching  sunbeams  scarce  can  find  a  way,          295 
Earth  animated  heaves.     The  flowery  leaf 


SUMMER. 


117 


Wants  not  its  soft  inhabitants.     Secure, 

Within  its  winding  citadel,  the  stone 

Holds  multitudes.     But  chief  the  forest  boughs, 

That  dance  unnumber'd  to  the  playful  breeze, 

The  downy  orchard,  and  the  melting  pulp 

Of  mellow  fruit,  the  nameless  nations  feed 

Of  evanescent  insects.     Where  the  pool 

Stands  mantled  o'er  with  green,  invisible, 

Amid  the  floating  verdure  millions  stray. 

Each  liquid  too,  whether  it  pierces,  soothes, 

Inflames,  refreshes,  or  exalts  the  taste, 

With  various  forms  abounds.     Nor  is  the  stream 

Of  purest  crystal,  nor  the  jucid  air, 

Though  one  transparent  vacancy  it  seems, 

Yoid  of  their  unseen  people.     These,  concealed 

By  the  kind  art  of  forming  Heaven,  escape 

The  grosser  eye  of  man ;  for,  if  the  worjds 

In  worlds  inclosed  should  on  his  senses  burst, 

From  cates  ambrosial,  and  the  Agctar'jJL  bowl, 

He  would  abhorrent  turn ;  and  in  dead  night,     ^ 

When  silence  sleeps  o'er  all,  be  stunn'd  with  noise, 


300 


305 


310 


315 


NOTHING    FORMED    IN    VAIN    OR   WITHOUT    A    WISE    PURPOSE. 


RPOSE 


c. 


320 


Let  no  presuming,  impious  railer  tax 
CREATIVE  WISDOM,  as  if  aught  was  formed 
In  vain,  or  not  for  admirable  ends. 
Shall  little  haughty  ignorance  pronounce 
His  works  unwise,  of  which  the  smallest  part 
Exceeds  the  narrow  vision  of  her  mind  ? 
As  if  upon  a  full-proportion'd  dome, 


315.  Cates:  Rich  food.  Ambrosial:  Delightful  to  the  taste  and  smell ; 
from  ambrosia,  the  food  of  the  gods,  according  to  classical  fi?"ble.  Ncc- 
tar'd  bowl :  Bowl  supplied  with  delicious  drink,  fit  for  the  god*  -as  nectar 
was  the  name  of  the  liquor  supposed  to  be  drank  by  them. 


118  SUMMER. 

On  swelling  columns  heaved,  the  pride  of  artM  325 

A  critic  fly,  whose  feeble  ray  scarce  spreads 

An  inch  around,  with  blind  presumption  bold, 

Should  dare  to  tax  the  structure  of  the  whole! 

And  lives  the  man,  whose  universal  eye 

Has  swept  at  once  th'  unbounded  scheme  of  things;      330 

Mark'd  their  dependence  so,  and  firm  accord, 

As  with  unfaltering  accent  to  conclude 

That  this  availeth  naught  ?     Has  any  seen 

The  mighty  chain  of  beings,  lessening  down 

From  Infinite  Perfection  to  the  brink  335 

Of  dreary  nothing,  desolate  abyss  ! 

From  which  astonish'd  thought,  recoiling,  turns  ? 

Till  then,  alone  let  zealous  praise  ascend, 

And  hymns  of  holy  wonder  to  that  POWER, 

Whose  wisdom  shines  as  lovely  on  our  minds,  340 

As  on  our  smiling  eyes  his  servant  sun. 

Thick  in  yon  stream  of  light,  a  thousand  ways, 
Upward  and  downward,  thwarting  and  convolved,     *~ 
The  quivering  nations  sport ;  till,  tempest- wing'd, 
Fierce  Winter  sweeps  them  from  the  face  of  day.  345 

E'en  so  luxurious  men,  unheeding,  pass 
An  idle  summer  life  in  fortune's  shine, 
A  season's  glitter.     Thus  they  flutter  on 
From  toy  to  toy,  from  vanity  to  vice ; 
Till,  blown  awa\r  by  death,  oblivion  comes 
Behind,  and  strikes  them  from  the  book  of  life. 


HAY-MAKING. 


~Now  swarms  the  village  o'er  the  jovial  mead : 
The  rustic  youth,  brown  with  meridian  toil, 


833.  This:  This  particular  thing  or  that — any  thing  which  God  has 
made. 


SUMMER.  Hj£ 

Healthful  and  strong ;  full  as  the  summer  rose 

Blown  by  prevailing  suns,  the  ruddy  maid,  355 

Half  naked,  swelling  on  the  sight,  and  all 

Her  kindled  graces  burning  o'er  her  cheek. 

E'en  stooping  age  is  here ;  and  infant  hands 

Trail  the  long  rake,  or,  with  the  fragrant  load 

O'ercharged,  amid  the  kind  oppression  roll.  360 

Wide  flies  the  tedded  grain.     All  in  a  row 

Advancing  broad,  or  wheeling  round  the  field, 

They  spread  the  breatbingLhacy_est-  to  the  sun, 

That  throws  refreshful  round  a  rural  smell : 

Or,  as  they  rake  the  green-appearing  ground,  365 

And  drive  the  dusky  wave  along  the  mead, 

The^russet^  hay  cock  rises  thick  behind, 

In  order  gay.     While  heard  from  dale  to  dale, 

Waking  the  breeze,  resounds  the  blended  voice 

Of  happy  labor,  love,  and  social  glee.  870 

SHEEP-SHEARING. 

Or  rushing  thence,  in  one  diffusive  band,     <^ 
They  drive  the  troubled  flocks,  by  many  a  dog 
Compelled,  to  where  the  mazy-running  brook        ^ 
Forms  a  deep  pool :  this  bank  abrupt  and  high, 


861.  Tedded:  Spread  out  for  the  purpose  of  being  dried  by  the  su* 
The  hay-field  is  well  described  in  the  following  paragraph : 

"  I  believe  few  people,"  -says  Dr.  Duncan,  "  have  beheld  the  occupation" 
of  the  hay-field,  which  this  beautiful  season  everywhere  presents,  without 
feeling  a  very  pure  and  elevated  delight.  The  mowers  moving  gracefully 
in  concert,  the  grass  falling  sheer  beneath  the  scythe,  its  graceful  fra 
grance,  the  maidens  raking  or  tedding  the  hay,  the  loading  of  the  carts  to 
remove  it  to  the  barn-yard,  all  excite  a  sensible  pleasure  in  almost  every 
mind.  This  enjoyment,  both  in  the  bystander  and  those  who  are  engaged 
in  this  rural  occupation,  seems  almost  entirely  the  result  of  association ; 
it  arises  chiefly  from  suggestions  and  feelings  of  a  moral  and  benevolent 
kind." 


120  SUMMER. 

•*-  And  that  fair-spreading  in  a  pebbled  shore.  375 

Urged  to  the  giddy  brink,  much  is  the  toil, 
S*"^*— Tie  clamor  much,  of  men  and  boys  and  dogs, 
^>--  Ere  the  soft  fearful  people  to  the  flood 

Commit  their  woolly  sides.     And  oft  the  swain, 

On  some  impatient  seizing,  hurls  them  in.  380 

Embolden'd  then,  nor  hesitating  more, 

Fast,  fast  they  plunge  amid  the  flashing  wave, 

And,  panting,  labor  to  the  farther  shore. 

Repeated  this,  till  deep  the  well-wash'd  fleece 

Has  drunk  the  flood,  and  from  his  lively  haunt  885 

The  trout  is  banish'd  by  the  sordid  stream. 

Heavy  and  dripping,  to  the  breezy  brow 

"   Slow  move  thejiarmless  race ;  wheYe,  as  they  spread 
Their  swelling  treasures  to  the  sunny  ray, 
Inly  disturb'd  and  wondering  what  this  wild  390 

>  'Outrageous  tumult  means,  their  loud  complaints 
The  country  fill ;  and,  toss'd  from  rock  to  rock, 
Incessant  bleatings  run  around  the  hills. 
At  last,  of  snowy  white,  the  gather'd  ilocks 
Are  in  the  wattled_pen^innumerous  press'd  395 

Head  above  head :  and  ranged  in  kisty  rows, 
The  shepherds  sit,  and  whet  the  sounding  shears.     £>   - 
The  housewife  waits  to  roll  her  fleecy  stores, 
With  all  her  gay-dress'd  maids  attending  round. 
\i  One,  chief,  in  gracious  dignity  enthroned,  400 

/  I  Shines  o'er  the  rest,  the  pastoral  queen,  and  rays 

/  Her  smiles,  sweet  beaming  on  her  shepherd  king ; 
While  the  glad  circle  round  them  yield  their  souls 
To  festive  mirth,  and  wit  that  knows  no  gall. 

\  Meantime,  their  joyous  task  goes  on  apace :  405 

405-22.  That  the  author  had  a  fine  taste  and  accurate  eye  for  painting, 
may  be  gathered  from  groupings  and  descriptions  without  end ;  for  his 
"  Seasons"  are  a  great  gallery  of  all  manner  of  pictures — scriptural,  his- 
torical, and  domestic.  He  is  a  rural  and  landscape  painter  of  the  noblest 


SUMMER,       vrr  o* 

Some  mingling  stir  the  melted  tar,  art^'1^)^,!  *'.'' 
Deep  on  the  new-shorn  vagrant's  heaV 
To  stamp  the  master's  cipher  ready 
^Others  th'  unwilling  wether  drag  along ; 
jAnd,  glorying  in  his  might,  the  sturdy  boy  410 

jHolds  by  the  twisted  horns  th'  indignant  ram. 
Behold  where  bound,  and  of  its  robe  bereft, 
:  By  needy  man,  that  all-depending  lord, 
•How  meek,  how  patient,  the  mild  creature  lies! 
iWhat  softness  in  its  melancholy  face,  415 

\Vhat  dumb  complaining  innocence  appears ! 
Fear  not,  ye  gentle  tribes ;  'tis  not  the  knife 
Of  horrid  slaughter  that  is  o'er  you  waved ; 
No,  'tis  the  tender  swain's  well-guided  shears, 
Who  having  now,  to  pay  his  annual  care,  420 

Borrow'd  your  fleece,  to  you  a  cumbrous  load, 
Will  send  you  bounding  to  your  hills  again. 

A  simple  scene!  yet 'hence,  Britannia  sees        \f 
Her  solid  grandeur  rise  :  hence,  she  commands    / 
Th'  exalted  stores  of  every  brighter  clime,  425 

The  treasures  of  the  sun  without  his  rage : 
Hence,  fervent  all,  with  culture,  toil,  and  arts, 
Wide  glows  her  land :  her  dreadful  thunder,  hence, 
Rides  o'er  the  waves  sublime,  and  now,  e'en  now, 

kind.  His  sheep-shearing  was  seen  through  no  other  eyes  save  his  own. 
The  sweet  humanity  with  which  this  scene  closes  is  in  the  same  sym- 
pathizing mood  witli  those  lines  which  paint,  first,  the  mariner  ship- 
wrecked and  alone  on  the  burning  coast  of  savage  Africa  (939-50),  and 
the  caravan  of  Mecca  caught  by  the  simoom  in  the  sandy  desert  (961-79)  • 
the  close  of  the  latter  is  one  of  the  most  touching  passages  in  poetry. — C. 

40-8.  Cipher:  Mark  of  property — generally  the  initials  of  the  master's 
name, 

423.  Britannia :  The  Latin  name  for  Britain.  The  Romans  invaded  it 
in  the  time  of  Julius  Ccesar,  and  retained  possession  of  a  part  of  it  until 
the  fifth  century. 

428.  Thunder :  That  of  the  cannon  of  her  navy :  by  a  figure  of  speech 
here  put  for  the  navy. 

6 


122  SUMMER. 

Impending  hangs  o'er  Gallia's  humbled  coast ;  480 

Hence  rules  the  circling  deep,  and  awes  the  world. 

NOON-DAY. 

'Tis  raging  noon ;  and,  vertical,  the  sun 
Darts  on  the  head  direct  his  forceful  rays. 
O'er  heaven  and  earth,  far  as  the  ranging  eye 
Can  sweep,  a  dazzling  deluge  reigns,  and  all,  435 

From  pole  to  pole,  is  undistinguish'd  blaze. 
In  vain  the  sight,  dejected,  to  the  ground 
Stoops  for  relief;  thence  hoijis^er^^g'steams 
And  keen  reflection  pain.     Deep  to  -the  root 
Of  vegetatioiTpaifcliM,"  the  cleaving  fields  440 

And  slippery  lawn,  an  arid  hue  disclose, 
Blast  fancy's  bloom,  and  wither  e'en  the  soul. 
Echo  no  more  returns  the  cheerful  sound      5> 
Of  sharpening  scythe  :  the  mower  sinking,  heaps 
O'er  him  the  humid  hay,  with  flowers  perfumed;  ^^  445 
And  scarce  a  chirping  grasshopper  is  heard  £> 
Through  the  dumb  mead.     Distressful  Nature  pants : 
The  very  streams  look  languid  from  afar ; 
Or,  through  the  unshelter'd  glade,  impatient,  seem 
To  hurl  into  the  covert  of  the  grove.  450 

All -conquering  Heat,  oh,  intermit  thy  wrath  ! 
And  on  my  throbbing  temples  potent  thus 
Beam  not  so  fierce !     Incessant  still  you  flow, 
And  still  another  fervent  flood  succeeds, 
Pour'd  on  the  head  profuse.     In  vain  I  sigh,  455 

And  restless  turn,  and  look  around  for  night : 
Night  is  far  off;  and  hotter  hours  approach. 
Thrice  happy  he  !  who  on  the  sunless  side 

430.  Gallia :  The  Latin  name  for  France,  which  Julius  Caesar  also  in- 
vaded, and  subjected  to  the  Roman  sway. 
439.  Reflection  :  That  is,  of  the  sun's  rays. 


SUMMER.        .  123 

Of  a  romantic  mountain,  forest- crown'd, 
Beneath  the  whole  collected  shade  reclines  :  460 

Or  in  the  gelid  caverns,  woodbine- wrought, 
And  fresh  bedew'd  with  ever-spouting  streams, 
Sits  coolly  calm ;  while  all  the  world  without, 
I  Unsatisfied,  and  sick,  tosses  "in  noon  : 

Emblem  instructive  of  the  virtuous  man,  465 

Who  keeps  his  temper'd  mind  serene  and  pure,  ] 
f"  And  every  passion  aptly  harmonized, 
Amid  a  jarring  world  with  vice  inflamed. 

A    WOODLAND    SCENE. 

Welcome,  ye  shades  !  ye  bowery  thickets,  hail !    c 
Ye  lofty  pines  !  ye  venerable  oaks  !  470 

Ye  ashes  wild,  resounding  o'er  the  steep  ! 
Delicious  is  your  shelter  to  the  soul, 
As  to  the  hunted  hart  the  sallying  spring, 
Or  stream  full  flowing,  that  his  swelling  sides 
Laves,  as  he  floats  along  the  herbaged  brink.  475 

Cool,  through  the  nerves,  your  pleasing  comfort  glides  : 
The  heart  beats  glad  ;  the  fresh-expanded  eye 
And  ear  resume  their  watch  ;  the  sinews  knit ; 
And  life  shoots  swift  through  all  the  lighten'd  limbs. 

Around  th'  adjoining  brook,  that  purls  along  480 

The  vocal  grove,  now  fretting  o'er  a  rock, 
Now  scarcely  moving  through  a  reedy  pool, 
Now  starting  to  a  sudden  stream,  and  now 
Gently  diffused  into  a  limpid  plain  ; 

A  various  group  the  herds  and  flocks  compose,  485 

Rural  confusion  !     On  the  grassy  bank 
Some  ruminating  lie  ;  while  others  stand 
Half  in  the  flood,  and  often  bending  sip 
The  circling  surface.     In  the  middle  droops  :: 
The  strong,  laborious  ox?  of  honest  front,  490 


124:  SUMMER. 

"Which  incomposed  he  shakes  ;  and  from  his  sides 
The  troublous  insects  lashes  with  his  tail, 
Returning  still.     Amid  his  subjects  safe, 
Slumbers  the  monarch  swain  ;  his  careless  arm 
Thrown  round  his  head,  on  downy  moss  sustain'd  ;         495 
Here  laid  his  scrip,  with  wholesome  viands  fill'd ; 
There,  listening  every  noise,  his  watchful  dog. 
Light  fly  his  slumbers,  if  perchance  a  flight 
Of  angry  gadflies  fasten  on  the  herd  ; 
That  startling  scatter  from  the  shallow  brook,  500 

In  search  of  lavish  stream.     Tossing  the  foam, 
They  scorn  the  keeper's  voice,  and  scour  the  plain, 
Through  all  the  bright  severity  of  noon  ; 
While,  from  their  laboring  breasts,  a  hollow  moan, 
/?    Proceeding,  runs  low  bellowing  round  the  hills.  505 

Oft  in  this  season  too,  the  horse  provoked, 
While  his  big  sinews  full  of  spirits  swell, 
Trembling  with  vigor,  in  the  heat  of  blood, 
Springs  the  high  fence  ;  and,  o'er  the  field  effused, 
Darts  on  the  gloomy  flood,  with  steadfast  eye,  510 

And  heart  estranged  to  fear.     His  nervous  chest, 
Luxuriant  and  erect,  the  seat  of  streno-th, 

o      ' 

Bears  down  th'  opposing  stream.     Quenchless  his  thirst, 

He  takes  the  river  at  redoubled  draughts  ; 

And  with  wide  nostril,  snorting,  skims  the  wave.  515 

Still  let  me  pierce  into  the  midnight  depth 
Of  yonder  grove,  of  wildest,  largest  growth, 
That,  forming  high  in  air  a  woodland  choir, 
Nods  o'er  the  mount  beneath.     At  every  step, 
Solemn  and  slow,  the  shadows  blacker  fall,  520 

And  all  is  awful,  listening  gloom  around  !  / 1 

The.se  are  the  haunts  of  Meditation  ;  these  >.  .•  '' 

The  scenes  where  ancient  bards  th'  inspiring  breath, 

491.  Incomposed:  Disturbed. 


SUMMER. 


125 


Ecstatic,  felt ;  and,  from  this  world  retired, 

Conversed  with  angels  and  immortal  forms,  525 

On  gracious  errands  bent :  to  save  the  fall 

Of  virtue  struggling  on  the  brink  of  vice  ; 

In  waking  whispers,  and  repeated  dreams, 

To  hint  pure  thought,  and  warn  the  favor'd  soul 

For  future  trials  fated  to  prepare  ;  530 

To  prompt  the  poet,  who  devoted  gives 

His  muse  to  better  themes ;  to  soothe  the  pangs 

Of  dying  worth,  and  from  the  patriot's  breast 

(Backward  to  mingle  in  detested  war, 

But  foremost  when  engaged)  to  turn  the  death ;  535 

And  numberless  such  offices  of  love, 

Daily  and  nightly,  zealous  to  perform. 

Shook  sudden  from  the  bosom  of  the  sky, 
A  thousand  shapes  or  glide  athwart  the  dusKJs 
Or  stalk  majestic  on.     Deep  roused,  I  feel  540 

A  sacred  terror,  a  severe  delight  ^ 

l^eeplhTOUgli  my  mortal  frame  ;  and  thus,  merhinks, 

I    A  voice,  than  human  more,  th'  abstracted  ear 

I     Of  fancy  strikes  : — "  Be  not  of  us  afraid, 

Poor  kindred  man  !     Thy  fellow-creatures,  we  545 

From  the  same  Parent  Power  our  being*  drew ; 

o 

The  same  our  Lord  and  laws  and  great  pursuit. 
Once,  some  of  us,  like  thee,  through  stormy  life, 

523.  Ancient  bards  :  Inspired  Hebrew  bards.  To  no  others  is  the  lan- 
guage that  follows  appropriate.  Thomson  assigns  to  angelic  beings,  visit- 
ing our  earth,  a  variety  of  offices  that  have  fancy  rather  than  Scripture 
or  argument  for  their  support.  As  a  fancy  sketch,  the  picture  is  beauti- 
ful :  as  a  sketch  of  real  life,  there  is  a*  lack  of  evidence  in  support  of  its 
correctness. 

539.  Shapes  :  That  is,  of  departed  spirits,  whom  the  poet  fancies  to  be 
present  at  this  hour  of  noon,  and  to  address  him.  He  does  not  claim  that 
he  heard  their  voice  with  the  ear  of  the  body,  but  with  the  abstracted  ear 
of  fancy.  The  introduction  of  this  passage  gives  novelty  and  variety  to 
the  narrative,  turning  our  thoughts  to  the  probable  occupations  of  de- 
ceased friends,  and  leading  us  into,  at  least,  a  pleasant  speculation. 


126  SUMMER. 

"**-  Toil'd,  tempest-beaten,  ere  we  could  attain 

This  holy  calm,  this  harmony  of  mind,  550 

Where  purity  and  peace  im mingle  charms. 

Then  fear  not  us  ;  but  with  responsive  song, 

Amid  these  dim  recesses,  undisturb'd 

By  noisy  folly  and  discordant  vice, 

Of  Xature  sing  with  us,  and  Nature's  GOD.  555 

Here  frequent,  at  the  visionary  hour, 

When  musing  midnight  reigns  or  silent  noon, 

Angelic  harps  are  in  full  concert  heard, 

And  voices  chanting  from  the  wood-crowned  hill, 

The  deepening  dale,  or  inmost  silvan  glade  :  580 

A  privilege  bestow'd  by  us,  alone, 

On  Contemplation,  or  the  hallow'd  ear 

Of  poet,  swelling  to  seraphic  strain." 

And  art  thou,  Stanley,  of  that  sacred  band  ? 
Alas,  for  us  too  soon  !     Though  raised  above  565 

The  reach  of  human  pain,  above  the  flight 

564.  Stanley  :  Miss  Elizabeth  Stanley — a  young  lady,  well  known  to 
the  author,  who  died  at  the  age  of  eighteen  in  the  year  173S.  For  her 
Thomson  wrote  a  long  and  beautiful  epitaph,  which  is  included  among  his 
published  poems.  She  was  buried  in  Holyrood  church,  Southampton. 
The  epitaph  speaks  of  her  as  the  pride  and  delight  of  her  parents ;  the 
joy,  the  consolation,  and  pattern  of  her  friends  ;  a  mistress  not  only  of  the 
English  and  French,  but  in  a  high  degree  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  learn- 
ing, yet  without  vanity  or  pedantry. 

It  may  here  be  asked  how  Thomson,  having  published  this  poem  in 
1727,  could  commemorate  the  death  of  a  voung  lady  which  occurred 
more  than  ten  years  afterwards.  The  explanation  is  easy.  In  succes- 
sive editions  the  author,  nearly  up  to  the  period  of  his  death  in  1748, 
was  accustomed  to  make  alterations,  to  add  and  to  withdraw,  as  suited 
his  improving  taste  or  the  progress  of  events.  "  These  Poems"  (the  Sea- 
sons) "  with  which,"  says  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  "  I  was  acquainted  at  their 
first  appearance,  I  have  since  found  altered  and  enlarged  by  subsequent 
revisals,  as  the  author  supposed  his  judgment  to  grow  more  exact,  and  as 
books  Or  conversation  extended  his  knowledge,  and  opened  his  prospects 
They  are,  as  I  think,  improved  in  general ;  yet  I  know  not  whether  they 
have  not  lost  part  of  what  Temple  calls  their  *  race  ;'  a  word  which,  ap 
plied  to  wines  in  its  primitive  sense,  means  the  flavor  of  the  soil.'^ 


SUMMEK.  127 

Of  human  joy  ;  yet,  with  a  mingled  ray 

Of  sadly  pleased  remembrance,  must  thou  feel 

A  mother's  love,  a  mother's  tender  woe ; 

Who  seeks  thee  still  in  many  a  former  scene ;  5*70 

Seeks  thy  fair  form,  thy  lovely  beaming  eyes, 

Thy  pleasing  converse,  by  gay  lively  sense 

Inspired ;  where  mortal  wisdom  mildly  shone, 

Without  the  toil  of  art ;  and  virtue  glow'd, 

In  all  her  smiles,  without  forbidding  pride.  575 

But,  0  thou  best  of  parents  !  wipe  thy  tears  ; 

Or  rather  to  Parental  Nature  pay 

The  tears  of  grateful  joy,  who  for  a  while 

Lent  thee  this  younger  self,  this  opening  bloom 

Of  thy  enlighten'd  mind  and  gentle  worth.  580 

Believe  the  Muse  ;  the  wintry  blast  of  death 

Kills  not  the  buds  of  virtue  ;  no,  they  spread, 

Beneath  the  heavenly  beam  of  brighter  suns, 

Through  endless  ages,  into  higher  powers. 

THE    ROMANTIC    WATER-FALL. 

Thus  up  the  mount,  in  airy  vision  wrapp'd,  /  585 

I  stray,  regardless  whither ;  till  the  sound 
Of  a  near  fall  of  water  every  sense 

Wakes  from  the  charm  of  thought :  swift  shrinking  back, 
I  check  my  steps,  and  view  the  broken  scene. 

Smooth  to  the  shelving  brink  a  copious  flood  590 

ilolls  fair  and  placid  ;  where,  collected  all 
n  one  impetuous  torrent,  down  the  steep 
it  thundering  shoots,  and  shakes  the  country  round. 
It  first,  an  azure  sheet,  it  rushes  broad  ; 
hen  whitening  by  degrees,  as  prone  it  falls,  595 

Ind  from  the  loud-resounding  rocks  below 
)ash'd  in  a  cloud  of  foam,  it  sends  aloft 
hoary  mist,  and  forms  a  ceaseless  shower. 


128 


SUMMEK. 


*-Nor  can  the  tortured  wave  here  find  repose  : 
|  But,  raging  still  amid  the  shaggy  rocks,  600 

J  Now  flashes  o'er  the  scatter'd  fragments,  now 
/  Aslant  the  hollow  channel  rapid  darts  ; 
f    And,  falling  fast  from  gradual  slope  to  slope, 
With  wild,  infracted  course  and  lessened  roar, 
It  gains  a  safer  bed,  and  steals,  at  last,  605 

Along  the  mazes  of  the  quiet  vale. 

Invited  from  the  cliff,  to  whose  dark  brow 
He  clings,  the  steep-ascending  eagle  soars, 
With  upward  pinions,  through  the  flood  of  day  ; 
And,  giving  full  his  bosom  to  the  blaze,  610 

Gains  on  the  sun  :  while  all  the_tuneful  race,       £~~~* 
Smit  by  aiflictive  noon,  disorder'd  droop,         /- 
Deep  in  the  thicket ;  or,  from  bower  to  bower 
Responsive,  force  an  interrupted  strain. 
The  stock-dove  only  through  the  forest  coos,  615 

[  Mournfully  hoarse  ;  oft  ceasing  from  his  plaint, 
Short  interval  of  weary  woe  !     Again 


608.  Steep-ascending  eagle :  To  the  eagle  mankind  have  agreed  (says 
Mrs.  Ellis)  in  assigning  a  sort  of  regal  character,  from  the  majesty  of  his 
bearing,  and  the  proud  pre-eminence  he  maintains  amongst  the  feathered 
tribe ;  from  the  sublimity  of  his  chosen  home,  far  above  the  haunts  of 
man  and  meaner  animals,  from  the  self-seclusion  in  which  he  holds  him- 
self apart  from  the  general  association  of  living  and  familiar  things,  and 
from  the  beauty  and  splendor  of  his  sagacious  eye,  which  shrinks  not 
from  the  dazzling  glare  of  the  sun  itself. 

615.  The  stock-dove  :  The  wild  pigeon  of  Europe,  formerly  supposed  to 
be  the  stock  whence  originated  the  domestic  pigeon,  but  now  regarded  as 
a  distinct  species.  The  writer  last  quoted  gives  an  account  of  the  dove 
so  attractive  that  it  is  worthy  of  being  inserted  here.  Above  all  other 
birds  (she  remarks)  the  dove  is  most  intimately  and  familiarly  associated 
with  ideas  of  the  quiet  seclusion  of  rural  life,  and  the  enjoyment  of  peace 
and  love.  This  simple  bird,  by  no  means  remarkable  for  its  sagacity,  so 
soft  in  its  coloring  and  graceful  in  its  form,  that  we  cannot  behold  it  with- 
out being  conscious  of  its  perfect  loveliness,  is  in  some  instances  endowed 
with  an  extraordinary  instinct,  which  adds  greatly  to  its  poetical  interest. 
That  species  called  the  carrier-pigeon,  has  often  been  celebrated  for  the 


SUMMER. 


129 


The  sad  idea  of  his  murder' d  mate,  ^ 

Struck  from  his  side  by  savage  fowler's  guile, 
Across  his  fancy  comes  ;  and  then  resounds  620 

A  louder  song  of  sorrow  through  the  grove. 

Beside  the  dewy  border  let  me  sit, 
All  in  the  freshness  of  the  humid  air : 
There  in  that  hollow'd  rock,  grotesque  and  wild, 
An  ample  chair  moss-lined,  and  over  head  625 

By  flowering  umbrage  shaded  ;  where  the  bee 
Strays  diligent,  and  with  th'  extracted 
Of  fragrant  woodbine  loads  his  little  thigh. 


the  bee  i 

balm      It 
high.      I 


THE    WONDERS    OF    THE    TORRID    ZONE. 

Now,  while  I  taste  the  sweetness  of  the  shade, 
While  Nature  lies  around  deep  lull'd  in  noon,  630 

Now  come,  bold  Fancy,  spread  a  daring  flight,  \ 
And  view  the  wonders  of  the  torrid  zone  ; 


faithfulness  with  which  it  pursues  its  mysterious  way,  but  never  more 
beautifully  than  in  the  following  lines  by  Moore : 

The  bird  let  loose  in  eastern  skies, 

When  hastening  fondly  home, 
Ne'er  stoops  to  earth  her  wing,  or  flies 

Where  idler  wanderers  roam ; 

But  high  she  shoots  through  air  and  light, 

Above  all  low  delay, 
Where  nothing  earthly  bounds  her  flight, 

Or  shadow  dims  her  way. 

But  neither  the  wonderful  instinct  of  this  undeviating  messenger, 
nor  even  the  classical  association  of  two  white  doves  with  the  queen 
of  love  and  beauty,  are  more  powerful  in  awakening  poetical  ideas  than 
the  simple  cooing  of  our  own  wood-pigeon,  heard  sometimes  in  the  solem- 
nity of  summer's  noon,  -when  there  is  no  other  sound  but  the  hum  of  the 
•wandering  bee,  as  he  comes  laden  and  rejoicing  home,  when  the  sun  is 
alone  in  the  heavens,  and  the  cattle  are  sleeping  in  the  shade,  and  not  a 
single  breath  of  air  is  whispering  through  the  boughs,  and  the  deep  dark 
shadows  of  the  ekn  and  the  sycamore  lie  motionless  upon  the  earth. 

6* 


130  STJMMEK. 

Climes  unrelenting  !  with  whose  rage  compared, 
Yon  blaze  is  feeble,  and  yon  skies  are  cool. 

See,  how  at  once  the  bright,  effulgent  Sun,  635 

Rising  direct,  swift  chases  from  the  sky 
^  The  shodcliyed  twilight ;  and  with  ardent  blaze, 
Looks  gayly  fierce  through  all  the  dazzling  air. 
He  mounts  his  throne  ;  but  kind  before  him  sends, 
Issuing  from  out  the  portals  of  the  morn,  640 

The  general  breeze,  to  mitigate  his  fire, 
And  breathe  refreshment  on  a  fainting  world. 
Great  are  the  scenes,  with  dreadful  beauty  crown' d 
And  barbarous  wealth,  that  see,  each  circling  year, 
Returning  suns  and  double  seasons  pass  ;  645 

Rocks  rich  in  gems,  and  mountains  big  with  mines, 
That  on  the  high  equator  ridgy  rise, 


641.  The  general  breeze :  That  which  blows  constantly  between  the 
tropics  from  the  east,  or  the  collateral  points,  the  northeast  and  the  south- 
east, the  cause  of  which  is  to  be  ascribed  principally  to  the  high  compara- 
tive temperature  of  the  torrid  zone,  combined  with  the  rotation  of  the 
earth  from  west  to  east.  The  heated  air  at  the  surface  ascending  into 
the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  its  place  is  supplied  by  the  colder 
air  rushing  from  the  poles  ;  which,  also  becoming  rarefied,  ascends  in  its 
turn,  and  is  carried  in  the  upper  regions  towards  the  poles  to  supply  the 
stream  of  the  under  current :  these  under  polar  currents  moving  in  prog- 
ress towards  the  equator  from  the  zones  where  the  earth's  motion  is 
slower,  to  others  where  it  is  more  rapid,  acquire  an  apparent  relative  mo- 
tion in  a  westerly  direction.  The  currents  from  the  northern  and  south- 
ern hemispheres  meeting  near  the  equator,  their  meridional  motions  are 
there  destroyed,  jind  they  therefore  advance  together  with  the  remain- 
ing motion  from  the  eastward  around  the  globe.  The  regularity  of  the 
trade-winds  is  disturbed  in  some  places  by  local  causes,  and  chiefly  by 
the  superior  rarefaction  of  the  air  over  land  heated  by  the  sun's  rays. 
They  extend  further  to  the  northward  or  southward  according  as  the 
urn's  declination  is  north  or  south  ;  and  in  some  places  they  are  period- 
ical, blowing  half  of  the  year  in  one  direction,  and  the  other  half  in  the 
opposite  one. — B&ANDE'S  CYCLOPEDIA.  • 

645.  Returning  xu/ts,  £c. :  In  all  climates  between  the  tropics,  the 
Bun,  as  he  passes  and  repasses  in  his  annual  motion,  is  twice  a  year  verti- 
cal, and  thus  produces  the  effect  here  described. 


SUMMER.  131 

Whence  many  a  bursting  stream  auriferous  plays  ; 
Majestic  woods,  of  every  vigorous  green, 
Stage  above  stage,  high  waving  o'er  the  hills  ;  650 

/Or,  to  the  far  horizon  wide  diffused,     i 
A  boundless  deep  immensity  of  shade.  I 
Here,  lofty  trees,  to  ancient  song  unknown, 
The  noble  sons  of  potent  heat  and  floods, 
Prone  rushing  from  the  clouds,  rear  high  to  heaven       655 
Their  thorny  stems,  and  broad  around  them  throw 
Meridian  gloom.     Here,  in  eternal  prime, 
Unnumber'd  fruits,  of  keen  delicious  taste 
And  vital  spirit,  drink  amid  the  cliffs, 
And  burning  sands,  that  bank  the  shrubby  vales,  660 

Redoubled  day  ;  yet  in  their  rugged  coats 
A  friendly  juice  to  cool  its  rage,  contain. 

Bear  me,  Pomona !  to  thy  citron  groves ; 
To  where  the  lenioa-and  the  piercing  lime, 
With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  through  the  green,        665 
Their  lighter  glories  blend.     Lay  me  reclined 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind,  that  shakes, 
Fann'd  by  the  breeze,  its  fever- cooling  fruit. 
Deep  in  the  night  the  massy  locust  sheds, 
Quench  my  hot  limbs ;  or  lead  me  through  the  maze]      670 
Embowering  endless,  of  the  Indian  fig ; 

648.  Aurifero-tts  :  Containing  gold  among  its  sands. 

661.  Ragged  coats  :  those  of  the  cocoanut  are  probably  referred  to. 

663.  Pomona  :  An  imaginary  goddess  of  fruits  and  flowers,  worshipped 
in  ancient* Rome. 

667.  Tamarind:  The  Indian  date,  that  grows  to  a  great  height,  and  is 
crowned  with  wide-spreading  branches.  Its  fruit  has  a  grateful  acid  taste 
and  is  preserved  in  sugar;  the  pods  in  which  it  grows  being  first  re- 
moved. 

669.  Night :  After  this,  supply  which.  The  sense  will  thus  be  made 
plain. 

671.  Indian  fig :  Ficus  religiosa.  The  Banian-tree  of  India,  celebrated 
for  the  great  size  and  number  of  its  trunks,  its  magnificent  shade,  and  its 
adaptation  to  the  comfort  of  animals  and  of  mankind  in  tropical  climates, 


132  SUMMER. 

Or,  thrown  at  gayer  ease,  on  some  fair  brow, 

Let  me  behold,  by  breezy  murmurs  cool'd, 

Broad  o'er  my  head  the  verdant  cedar  wave, 

And  high  palmettos  lift  their  graceful  shade.  675 

Or,  stretch'd  amid  these  orchards  of  the  sun, 

Give  me  to  drain  the  cocoa's  milky  bowl, 

And  from  the  palm  to  draw  its  freshening  wine ! 

More  bounteous  far  than  all  the  frantic  juice 

A  single  tree,  in  fact,  constitutes  a  grove,  furnishing  most  beautiful  walks, 
vistas,  and  cool  retreats  in  summer.  The  leaves  are  large,  soft,  and  of  a 
lively  green.  The  fruit  is  a  small  fig,  when  ripe,  of  a  bright  scarlet  color, 
affording  sustenance  to  squirrels,  monkeys,  peacocks,  and  birds  of  various 
kinds  which  dwell  among  the  branches. 

Milton  supposes  that  it  was  this  tree  which  furnished  the  leaves  for  the 
first  garments  of  Adam  and  Eve  : 

Such  as  at  this  day  to  Indians  known 
In  Malabar  or  Decan,  spreads  her  arms 
Branching  so  broad  and  long,  that  in  the  ground 
The  bended  twigs  take  root,  and  daughters  grow 
About  the  mother  tree,  a  pillar' d  shade 
High  over-arched,  and  echoing  walks  between. 

The  Hindoos  almost  pay  it  divine  honors,  considering  its  long  duration, 
its  outstretching  arms,  and  its  overshadowing  beneficence  as  emblems  of 
the  Deity.  The  Brahmins  spend  much  of  their  time  in  meditation  under 
its  delightful  shade  :  they  plant  it  near  their  temples  or  pagodas ;  and  in 
villages  where  these  buildings  have  not  been  erected  the  Banian-tree  is 
the  scene  of  their  idol  worship.  Under  its  far-reaching  branches  thousands 
of  human  beings,  and  of  the  inferior  tribes  that  traverse  the  earth  and  the 
air,  may  find  at  one  time  ample  accommodation  and  subsistence.  Consult 
Dick's  Christian  Philosopher,  chap.  ii. 

675.  Palmettos:  The  palmetto  is  a  species  of  the  palm-tree,  indigenous 
in  the  West  Indies  and  in  the  southern  part  of  the  United  States. 

677.  The  cocoa-tree  is  devoted  to  a  great  variety  of  useful  purposes. 
Boats  and  frames  for  houses  are  made  of  the  trunk.  The  larger  leaves, 
from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  long  and  three  feet  broad,  are  used  in  thatching 
the  houses  of  the  Hindoo  natives,  and  when  split  lengthwise  serve  as  ma- 
terials for  mats  and  baskets.  The  nut  yields  not  only  delicious  food  and 
drink,  but  a  valuable  oil.  The  branches,  when  cut,  send  forth  a  liquor 
called  toddy,  from  which  an  intoxicating  beverage  is  obtained  by  distilla- 
tion. The  fibres  enveloping  the  shell  of  the  nut  are  sometimes  spun  and 
woven  into  sail-cloth,  or  twisted  into  a  cable  stronger  than  any  that  can 
be  made  of  hemp.  The  leaves  furnish  food  to  the  elephant,  and  the  ashes, 


SUMMER.  133 

Which  Bacchus  pours.     Nor,  on  its  slender  twigs          680 

Low  bending,  be  the  full  pomegranate  scorn'd ; 

Nor,  creeping  through  the  woods,  the  gelid  race 

Of  berries.     Oft  in  humble  station  dwells 

Unboastful  worth,  above  fastidious  pomp. 

Witness,  thou  best  Anana,  thou  the  pride  685 

Of  vegetable  life,  beyond  whate'er 

The  poets  imaged  in  the  golden  age : 

Quick  let  me  strip  thee  of  thy  tufty  coat, 

Spread  thy  ambrosial  stores  and  feast  with  Jove ! 

From  these  the  prospect  varies.     Plains  immense       690 
Lie  stretch'd  below,  interminable  meads, 
And  vast  savannahs ;  where  the  wandering  eye, 
Unfix'd,  is  in  a  verdant  ocean  lost. 
Another  Flora  there,  of  bolder  hues, 


from  the  potash  which  they  contain,  serve  the  fishermen  of  Ceylon  for 
•soap.     The  shell  is  made  into  cups  and  various  fancy  articles. 

680.  Bacchus :  The  god  of  the  vine,  of  its  fruits,  and  of  the  scenes  to 
which  the  "frantic  juice"  gives  origin,  was  among  the  first  of  the  gods 
that  were  generally  worshipped  in  the  Grecian  and  Roman  territories. 
His  worship  virtually  is  now  more  prevalent  than  in  ancient  times,  even 
in  nominally  Christian  lands. 

681.  The  fruit  of  the  pomegranate-tree  is  about  the  size  of  an  orange; 
the  pulp,  which  is  acid,  and  of  a  reddish  color,  being  inclosed  in  a  hard 
rind.     The  latter  is  highly  astringent.     This  shrubby  tree  is  a  native  of 
Italy,  Spain,  and  Barbary. 

683-4.  Moral  reflections  and  observations  like  this  are  perpetually  oc- 
curring through  the  poem,  and  greatly  enhance  its  value,  and,  to  persons 
of  fine  moral  taste,  its  interest  also. 

685.  The  Anana  is  the  pineapple. 

692.  Savannahs :  Plains  covered  with  grass  and  free  from  trees,  afford- 
ing an  unobstructed  prospect.  Meads  generally  denote  grass  land,  low 
and  wet. 

694.  Flora :  A  name  derived  from  the  goddess  of  flowers  worshipped 
by  the  ancients,  but  now  frequently  employed  to  denote  a  class  or  collec- 
tion of  flowers  belonging  to  some  particular  region.  Thus  we  may  speak 
of  a  European,  African,  or  American  Flora.  It  is  here  used  us  a  general 
term  for  the  totality  of  flowers  that  adorn  the  savannahs  and  meads 
above  mentioned. 


134:  SUMMER. 

And  richer  sweets,  beyond  our  garden's  pride,  695 

Plays  o'er  the  fields,  and  showers,  with  sudden  hand, 
Exuberant  spring  :  for  oft  these  valleys  shift 
>  Their  green- embroider 'd  robe  to  fiery  brown, 
And  swift  to  green  again,  as  scorching  suns, 
Or  streaming  dews  and  torrent  rains,  prevail.  700 

Along  these  lonely  regions,  where,  reticejL 
From_liitle_scenes  of  art,_great  ISature  dwells 
^r          In  awful  solitude,  and  naught  is  seen 

But  the  wild  herds  that  own  no  master's  stall, 
Prodigious  rivers  roll  their  fattening  seas ;  705 

On  whose  luxuriant  herbage,  half  conceal'd, 
Like  a  fall'n  cedar,  far  diffused  his  train, 
Cased  in  green  scales,  the  crocodile  extends. 
The  flood"  disparts  :  behold  !  in  plaited  mail, 
Behemoth  rears  his  head.     Glanced  from  his  side,         710 
The  darted  steel  in  idle  shivers  flies. 
He  fearless  walks  the  plain,  or  seeks  the  hills; 
Where,  as  he  crops  his  varied  fare,  the  herds, 
In  widening  circle  round,  forget  their  food, 
And  at  the  harmless  stranger  wondering  gaze.  715 

Peaceful  beneath  primeval  trees,  that  cast 

710.  Behemoth  :  The  hippopotamus,  or  river-horse  ;  a  grand  description 
of  which  is  furnished  in  the  book  of  Job,  chap.  xl.  15-24.  Some  parts  of 
that  description  apply  more  closely  to  the  elephant  than  to  the  river- 
horse  ;  other  parts  apply  equally  well  to  both.  Hence  the  term  behe- 
moth, taken  intensively,  may  be  assumed  to  be  a  poetical  personification 
of  the  great  Pachydermata,  or  even  Herbivora,  wherein  the  idea  of  hip- 
popotamus is  predominant.  Consult  Kitto's  Cyclopedia.  The  hippopot- 
amus lives  during  the  day  beneath  the  waters  of  its  native  river,  ascend- 
ing occasionally  to  the  surface  for  the  purpose  of  breathing ;  but  at  night 
make?  its  way  to  the  laud  to  obtain  food. 

The  crocodile  (70S)  is  included  among  the  animals  denoted  by  Levia- 
than, in  the  sacred  Scriptures.  Among  other  characteristics  the  upper 
and  under  parts  of  the  body,  and  the  entire  tail,  are  covered  with  square 
plates,  while  the  sides  of  the  body  are  covered  with  small  round  scales. 
Its  home  is  the  Nile. 

717.  The  river  Niger  in  Africa  is  chiefly  celebrated  for  the  many  un- 


SUMMER.  135 

Their  ample  shade  o'er  Niger's  yellow  stream,     . 

And  where  the  Ganges  rolls  his  sacred  wave ; 

Or,  mid  the  central  depth  of  blackening  woods, 

High  raised  in  solemn  theatre  around,  720 

Leans  the  huge  elephant ;  wisest  of  brutes ! 

0  truly  wise !  with  gentle  might  endow'd, 

Though  powerful,  not  destructive !     Here  he  sees 

Revolving  ages  sweep  the  changeful  earth, 

And  empires  rise  and  fall ;  regardless  he  725 

Of  what  the  never-resting  race  of  men 

Project :  thrice  happy  !  could  he  'scape  their  guile, 

Who  mine,  from  cruel  avarice,  his  steps ; 

Or  with  his  towery  grandeur  swell  their  state, 

The  pride  of  kings  !  or  else,  his  strength  pervert,  730 

successful  and  fatal  attempts  to  explore  and  ascertain  its  outlet,  which 
was  not  discovered  until  1830  by  Richard  and  John  Lander,  who  went 
from  the  coast  to  Boosa  on  the  Niger,  and  followed  the  stream  downward 
till  it  conveyed  them  through  the  channel  of  the  river  Nun  into  the  bay 
of  Benin — this  channel  being  one  of  the  numerous  mouths  of  the  Niger 
that  form,  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  a  delta  of  240  miles.  Jt  was  at  Boosa 
that  Mungo  Park  and  his  associates  encountered  death.  For  centuries 
the  origin  of  this  river  in  Western  Guinea  and  a  part  of  its  course  only 
were  known ;  but  it  was  reserved,  at  this  late  period,  for  the  enterprise 
of  the-  Landers  to  settle  the  long-agitated  question  of  its  local  termi- 
nation. 

718.  Sacred  wave:  The  water  of  the  Ganges  is  regarded  by  the  Hin- 
doos with  religious  reverence,  since  they  attribute  to  it  an  efficacy  for 
their  purification  from  sin.  In  size  and  other  respects,  it  is  one  of  the 
noblest  rivers  in  the  world,  extending  in  all  its  windings,  in  Hindostan 
alone,  1300  miles,  and  thus  far  from  its  mouth  is  navigable. 

728.  Who  mine,  &c. :  -This  is  done  by  digging  pits,  which  are  covered 
slightly  with  branches,  grass,  and  earth,  and  the  wild  elephant,  being 
driven  or  allured  in  the  direction  of  these,  falls  into  them  and  is  captured. 
For  a  full  account  see  Rollin's  History,  vol.  v.  147-8.  Their  use  "amid 
the  mortal  fray,"  or  in  battles,  by  the  ancients,  is  well  known.  In  his 
famous  battle  with  Alexander,  Porus  is  said  to  have  employed  eighty- 
five  prodigious  elephants,  which,  before  the  engagement,  stood  like  so 
many  towers,  and  the  Indians  exasperated  them  in  order  that  their 
hideous  cry  might  fill  the  Macedonians  with  terror.  This  may  explain 
the  plirase  toivcry  grandeur 


136  SUMMER. 

And  bid  him  rage  amid  the  mortal  fray, 
Astonish'd  at  the  madness  of  mankind. 

Wide  o'er  the  winding  umbrage  of  the  floods, 
Like  vivid  blossoms  glowing  from  afar, 
Thick  swarm  the  brighter  birds.     For  Nature's  hand,      735 
That  with  a  sportive  vanity  has  deck'd 
The  plumy  nations,  there  her  gayest  hues 
Profusely  pours.     But  if  she  bids  them  shine, 
Array 'd  in  all  the  beauteous  beams  of  day, 
Yet  frugal  still,  she  humbles  them  in  song.  740 

Nor  envy  we  the  gaudy  robes  they  lent 
Proud  Montezuma's  realm,  whose  legions  cast 
A  boundless  radiance  waving  on  the  sun, 
While  Philomel  is  ours ;  while  in  our  shades,  \ 
Through  the  soft  silence  of  the  listening  night,  745 

738-40.  Profusely  pours,  &c. :  In  all  the  regions  of  the  torrid  zone,  the 
birds,  though  more  beautiful  in  their  plumage,  are  observed  to  be  less 
melodious  than  in  the  temperate  zone. 

742.  Montezuma'*  realm  :  Mexico.  That •  Montezuma  was  a  proud  mon- 
arch will  be  seen  from  Robertson's  account  of  his  earliest  interview  with 
Cortes.  He  was  in  the  first  place  preceded  by  a  thousand  persons  of  dis- 
tinction, adorned  with  plumes  and  clothed  in  mantles  of  fine  cotton. 
These  announced  to  Cortes  that  their  monarch  was  approaching.  Next 
appeared  two  hundred  persons  in  a  uniform  dress,  with  large  plumes  of 
feathers,  alike  in  fashion,  marching  two  and  two,  in  deep  silence,  bare- 
footed, with  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  These  were  followed  by  a 
company  of  higher  rank,  in  their  most  showy  apparel,  in  the  midst  of 
whom  was  Montezuma,  in  a  chair  or  litter  richly  ornamented  with  gold, 
and  feathers  of  various  colors.  Four  of  his  principal  favorites  carried  him 
on  their  shoulders,  others  supported  a  canopy  of  curious  workmanship 
over  his  head.  Before  him  inarched  three  officers  with  rods  of  gold  in 
their  hands,  which  they  lifted  up  on  high  at  certain  intervals,  and  at  that 
signal  all  the  people  bowed  their  heads  and  hid  their  faces,  as  unworthy 
to  look  upon  so  great  a  monarch.  When  he  drew  near,  Cortes  dismounted, 
advancing  towards  him  Avith  officious  haste,  and  in  a  respectful  posture. 
At  the  same  time  Montezuma  alighted  from  his  chair,  and,  leaning  on  the 
arms  of  two  of  his  near  relations,  approached  with  a  slow  and  stately 
pace,  his  attendants  covering  the  streets  with  cotton  cloths,  that  he  might 
not  touch  the  ground.  He  scarcely  deigned  to  consider  the  rost  of  man- 
kind as  of  the  same  species  with  himself. 


SUMMER.  13T 

\The  sober-suited  songstress  trills  her  lay. 

But  come,  my  Muse,  the  desert-barrier  burst, 
A  wild  expanse  of  lifeless  sand  and  sky  ; 
And,  swifter  than  the  toiling  caravan, 
Shoot  o'er  the  vale  of  Sennar ;  ardent  climb  750 

To  Nubian  mountains,  and  the  secret  bounds 
Of  jealous  Abyssinia  boldly  pierce. 
'Thou  art  no  ruffian,  who  beneath  the  mask 
Of  social  commerce  com'st  to  rob  their  wealth ; 
No  holy  fury  thou,  blaspheming  Heaven,  755 

With  consecrated  steel  to  stab  their  peace,    — — - 
And  through  the  land  yet  red  from  civil  wounds, 
To  spread  the  purple  tyranny  of  Rome. 
Thou,  like  the  harmless  bee,  mayst  freely  range 
From  mead  to  mead,  bright  with  exalted  flowers ;          760 
From  jasmin  grove  to  grove,  mayst  wander  gay 
Through  palmy  shades  and  aromatic  woods, 
That  grace  the  plains,  invest  the  peopled  hills, 
And  up  the  more  than  Alpine  mountains  wave. 

746.  The  sober-suited  songstress :  Philomel  (the  nightingale)  is  so  styled 
from  the  plain  suit  of  plumage  that  she  wears,  there  being  nothing  showy 
or  brilliant  about  it. 

750.  Sennaar  is  a  city  of  Nubia  and  capital  of  the  kingdom  of  Sennaar. 
It  has  a  population  of  10,000,  and  carries  on,  by  caravans,  an  extensive 
trade  with  Egypt,  Nigritia,  and  Arabia.  South  of  Nubia  lies  Abyssinia, 
whose  inhabitants  have  adopted  a  system  of  religion,  compounded  of 
Judaism,  Christianity,  and  superstition.  In  the  fifteenth  and  sixteentli 
centuries  strenuous  efforts  were  made  to  proselyte  them  to  the  Romish 
faith,  but  these  efforts  were  not  attended  with  much  success  until  the 
seventeenth  century,  when  the  Portuguese  Jesuits  renewed  the  mission, 
to  spread  the  purple  tyranny  of  Rome.  At  length,  however,  the  emperor 
was  so  exasperated  at  the  changes  thus  introduced,  the  exactions  the} 
imposed,  and  the  arrogance  they  displayed,  that  he  banished  all  the 
popish  missionaries,  and  their  adherents,  from  his  dominions ;  and  even  so 
lately  as  a  century  ago,  the  edict  prohibiting,  on  the  above  account,  all 
Europeans  to  enter  Abyssinia,  was  in  force  and  rigorously  executed.  To 
this  event,  and  others  naturally  growing  out  of  it,  the  poet  plainly  alludea 
(751-758),  and  then  gives  a  most  picturesque  account  of  the  physical 
beauties  of  an  Abyssinian  landscape. 


138  SUMMEK. 

There  on  the  breezy  summit,  spreading  fair,  765 

For  many  a  league  ;  or  on  stupendous  rocks, 

That  from  the  sun-redoubling  valley  lift, 

Cool  to  the  middle  air,  their  lawny  tops ; 

Where  palaces  and  fanes  and  villas  rise, 

And  gardens  smile  around,  and  cultured  fields,  770 

And  fountains  gush,  and  careless  herds  and  flocks 

Securely  stray ;  a  world  within  itself, 

Disdaining  all  assault ;  there  let  me  draw 

Ethereal  soul,  there  drink  reviving  gales, 

Profusely  breathing  from  the  spicy  groves  775 

And  vales  of  fragrance ;  there  at  distance  hear 

The  roaring  floods,  and  cataracts,  that  sweep 

From  disembowelFd  earth  the  virgin  gold ; 

And  o'er  the  varied  landscape,  restless,  rove, 

Fervent  with  life  of  every  fairer  kind  :  780 

A  land  of  wonders  !  which  the  sun  still  eyes 

With  ray  direct,  as  of  the  lovely  realm 

Enamor'd,  and  delighting  there  to  dwell. 

How  changed  the  scene  !  in  blazing  height  of  noon, 
The  sun,  oppress'd,  is  plunged  in  thickest  gloom.  785 

Still  horror  reigns,  a  dreary  twilight  round, 
Of  struggling  night  and  day  malignant  mix'd. 
6  For  to  the  hot  equator  crowding  fast, 
Where  highly  rarefied,  the  yielding  air 
Admits  their  stream,  incessant  vapors  roll,  790 

Amazing  clouds  on  clouds  continual  heap'd ; 
Or  whiiTd  tempestuous  by  the  gusty  wind, 
'Or  silent  borne  along,  heavy  and  slow,  ** 

With,  the  big  stores  of  steaming  oceans  charged. 
Meantime,  amid  these  upper  seas,  condensed  795 

767.  Sun-redoubling  valley :  Valley  in  which,  compared  wAh  the  adja- 
cent eminences,  the  sun  has  double  power,  especially  when  in  a  vertical 
position. 

778.    Virgin  gold:  Pure  gold. 


STJMMEK.  139 

Around  the  cold  aerial  mountain's  brow, 

And  by  conflicting  winds  together  dash'd, 

The  thunder  holds  his  black,  tremendous  throne. 

From  cloud  to  cloud  the  rending  lightnings  rage ; 

Till,  in  the  furious-elemental  war  800 

Dissolved,  the  whole  precipitated  mass 

Unbroken  floods  and  solid  torrents  pours. 

•  MAGNIFICENT    RIVERS. 

The  treasures  these,  hid  from  the  bounded  search 
Of  ancient  knowledge ;  whence,  with  annual  pomp, 
Rich  king  of  floods  !  o'erflows  the  swelling  Nile.  805 

From  his  two  springs,  in  Gojam's  sunny  realm, 
Pure  welling  out,  he  through  the  lucid  lake 
Of  fair  Dambea  rolls  his  infant  stream. 
There,  by  the  naiads  nursed,  he  sports  away 
His  playful  youth  amid  the  fragrant  isles,  810 

That  with  unfading  verdure  smile  around.  ' 
Ambitious  thence  the  manly  river  breaks ; 
And,  gathering  many  a  flood,  and  copious  fed 
With  all  the  mellow'd  treasures  of  the  sky, 

v  803-5.  The  author  here  refers  to  the  previous  paragraph  as  containing 
an  explanation  of  the  annual  overflowings  of  the  Nile — a  phenomenon 
which  the  ancients  failed  to  account  for.  The  poet  claims  also  to  indicate 
the  sources  of  the  Nile  in  two  springs  welling  out  (issuing  out)  in  Gojam, 
which  probably  denotes  a  province  of  Abyssinia.  But  he  has  been  more 
exact  and  explicit  than  history  warrants.  It  has  hitherto  been  ascer- 
tained, only,  that  the  various  branches  of  the  Nile  have  an  origin  some- 
where in  the  high  lands  of  Africa,  north  of  the  equator,  in  what  are  called 
the  Mountains  of  the  Moon.  The  Nile,  yet  a  small  stream,  runs  through 
the  lake  Dembca,  situated  in  the  interior  of  Abyssinia.  The  whole  length 
of  this  splendid  river  is  not  far  from  '2000  miles. 

809.  By  the  naiads,  nursed:  A  classical  conception  of  great  beauty. 
The  Nile  in  its  infancy  is  represented  as  being  nursed  in  the  lake  Dembea 
by  the  fair  goddesses  that  preside  over  fountains  and  rivers.  The  pro- 
gressive growth  and  ever-swelling  majesty  of  the  river  are  finely  de- 
scribed. 


140  SUMMEK. 

Winds  in  progressive  majesty  along  :  815 

Through  splendid  kingdoms  now  devolves  his  maze, 
Now  wanders  wild  o'er  solitary  tracts 
Of  life-deserted  sand ;  till,  glad  to  quit 
The  joyless  desert,  down  the  Nubian  rocks, 
From  thundering  steep  to  steep,  he  pours  his  urn,          820 
And  Egypt  joys  beneath  the  spreading  wave. 
•    His  brother  Niger  too,  and  all  the  floods 
JT?  In  which  the  full-form'd  maids  of  Afric  lave 
Their  jetty  limbs  ;  and  all  that  from  the  tract 
Of  woody  mountains  stretch'd  through  gorgeous  Ind,      825 
Fall  on  Cormandel's  coast,  or  Malabar ; 
From  Menam's  orient  stream,  that  nightly  shines 
With  insect  lamps,  to  where  Aurora  sheds 
On  Indus'  smiling  banks  the  rosy  shower : 
All,  at  this  bounteous  season,  ope  their  urns,  830 

And  pour  untoiling  harvest  o'er  the  land. 

Nor  less  thy  world,  Columbus,  drinks,  refreshed, 
The  lavish  moisture  of  the  melting  year. 
Wide  o'er  his  isles  the  branching  Oronoque 

816.  Devolves  his  maze:  Rolls  down  his  winding  course. 

825.  Ind ;  for  India.  Menam  is  a  large  river  of  Siam,  on  whose  banks 
the  vast  multitude  of  fire-flies  make  a  brilliant  appearance  at  night. 

832.  Thy  world:  The  continent  of  America;  called  his  world  because 
discovered  by  him. 

834.  Oronoque :  This  river  takes  its  rise  in  the  centre  of  the  Republic 
of  Colombia,  and  after  a  course  of  1400  miles  enters  the  Atlantic  by  an 
extended  delta  of  mouths,  opposite  the  Island  of  Trinidad.  The  poet 
refers  to  the  valuable  trees  (life-sufficing]  on  the  banks  of  this  stream,  to 
which  the  natives  are  driven  for  safety  when  the  river  is  overflowed,  and 
from  which  they  derive  supplies  of  various  sorts.  The  reference,  proba- 
bly, is  to  the  cocoanut-tree,  which  has  been  already  described  in  note 
677,  "Spring." 

A  passage  in  St.  Pierre's  Studies  of  Nature  affords  a  good  illustration  of 
the  text : — "The  inundations  of  rivers,  such  as  the  Amazon,  Oronoco,  and 
many  others,  are  periodical.  They  manure  the  lands  they  inundate  ;  and 
it  is  well  known  that  the  banks  of  these  rivers  swarmed  with  populous 
nations  before  Europeans  settled  there.  The  inhabitants  were  benefited 


SUMMER.  141 

Rolls  a  brown  deluge  ;  and  the  native  drives  835 

To  dwell  aloft  on  life-sufficing  trees, 

At  once  his  dome,  his  robe,  his  food,  and  arms. 

Swell'd  by  a  thousand  streams,  impetuous  hurl'd 

From  all  the  roaring  Andes,  huge  descends 

The  mighty  Orellana.     Scarce  the  Muse  840 

Dares  stretch  her  wing  o'er  this  enormous  mass 

Of  rushing  water.     Scarce  she  dares  attempt 

The  sea-like  Plata ;  to  whose  dread  expanse, 

Continuous  depth,  and  wondrous  length  of  course, 

Our  floods  are  rills.     With  unabated  force,  845 

In  silent  dignity  they  sweep  along, 

And  traverse  realms  unknown,  and  blooming  wilds, 

And  fruitful  deserts,  worlds  of  solitude ; 

Where  the  sun  smiles  and  seasons  teem  in  vain, 

Unseen  and  unenjoy'd.     Forsaking  these,  850 


from  these  inundations,  by  the  abundance  of  the  fisheries  and  the  fertility 
of  the  lands.  So  far  from  considering  them  as  convulsions  of  nature,  they 
received  them  as  blessings  from  Heaven ;  just  as  the  Egyptians  prized 
the  overflowings  of  the  Nile.  Was  it  then  a  mortifying  spectacle  to  see 
their  deep  forests  intersected  with  water,  which  they  could  traverse  in 
their  canoes,  and  pick  the  fruits  at  their  ease  ?  Nay,  certain  tribes  of  the 
Oronoco  (or  Oronoque),  determined  by  these  accommodations,  had  acquired 
the  singular  habit  of  dwelling  on  the  tops  of  trees,  and  seeking  under 
their  foliage  a  habitation,  food,  and  a  fortress.  Most  of  them,  however, 
inhabited  only  the  banks  of  rivers,  and  preferred  them  to  the  surrounding 
deserts,  though  not  exposed  to  inundations." 

840.  The  Orellana  is  the  river  Amazon,  deriving  the  first  of  these 
names  from  its  discoverer,  Francesco  Orellano,  who,  leaving  Peru  in  1540, 
was  the  first  European  that  sailed  down  the  river  Amazon  to  the  Atlantic. 
He  gave  this  latter  name  to  the  river  from  the  circumstance  that  he  ob- 
served upon  its  banks  companies  of  armed  women.  The  original  name  of 
the  river  was  Maranon.  Its  length  is  3300  miles  :  it  has  a  breadth  of  150 
miles  at  its  mouth,  and  even  at  the  distance  of  1500  miles  from  its  mouth 
is  180  feet  deep. 

843.  Sea-like  Plata:  Being  150  miles  broad  at  its  mouth,  and  at  Mon- 
tevideo, 60  miles  up  the  river,  is  so  broad  that  from  the  centre  of  the 
channel  the  land  on  either  side  cannot  be  discerned.  It  is  navigable  in 
large  boats  1000  miles,  which  is  about  half  of  its  entire  length. 


142  SUMMER. 

O'er  peopled  plains  they  fair  diffusive  flow, 

And  many  a  nation  feed,  and  circle  safe 

In  their  soft  bosom,  many  a  happy  isle, 

The  seat  of  blameless  Pan,  yet  undisturb'd 

By  Christian  crimes  and  Europe's  cruel  sons.  855 

Thus  pouring  on  they  proudly  seek  the  deep, 

Whose  vanquish'd  tide,  recoiling  from  the  shock, 

Yields  to  the  liquid  weight  of  half  the  globe ; 

And  Ocean  trembles  for  his  green  domain. 

THE    ADVANTAGES    OF  TROPICAL   CLIMES   OVERBALANCED  B"«      '^IR 
PECULIAR    DISADVANTAGES. 

But  what  avails  this  wondrous  waste  of  wealth  ?         860 
This  gay  profusion  of  luxurious  bliss  ? 
This  pomp  of  Nature  ?  what  their  balmy  meads, 
Their  powerful  herbs,  and  Ceres  void  of  pain, 
By  vagrant  birds  dispersed,  and  wafting  winds  ? 
What  their  implanted  fruits?  what  the  cool  draughts,      865 
Th'  ambrosial  food,  rich  gums,  and  spicy  health, 
Their  forests  yield  ?  their  toiling  insects  what, 

854.  Pan :  A  Grecian  deity,  who  -was  honored  as  the  god  of  the  natural 
world ;  this  name  signifying  the  whole :  or  his  name  may  be  derived  from 
a  word  which  signifies  to  tend  flocks,  and  thus  applies  to  him  as  the  god 
of  shepherds  and  of  men  in  a  rude,  uncultivated  state.  He  is  here  put  as 
the  god  or  representative  of  the  men  of  those  regions  while  yet  uncor- 
rupted  by  European  vices. 

857-9.  These  lines  receive  illustration  from  the  account  which  Robert- 
son gives  of  the  Orinoco.  It  rolls  towards  the  ocean  such  a  vast  body  of 
water,  and  rushes  into  it  with  such  impetuous  force,  that  when  it  meets 
the  tide,  which  on  that  coast  rises  to  an  uncommon  height,  their  collision 
occasions  a  swell  and  agitation  of  the  waves  no  less  surprising  than  formi- 
dable. IH  this  conflict  the  irresistible  torrent  of  the  river  so  far  prevails 
that  it  freshens  the  ocean  many  leagues  with  its  flood. 

863.  -Cfreft  roid  of  pain  :  Crops  that  cost  no  severe  labor — spontaneous 
products  of  the  earth.  Ceres,  the  goddess  of  agriculture  and  of  the  pro- 
ducts of  the  earth,  is  here  put  for  those  products  that  were  attributed  to 
her  power  and  energy. 


SUMMER. 

Their  silky  pride,  and  vegetable  robes  ? 

Ah  !  what  avail  their  fatal  treasures,  hid 

Deep  in  the  bowels  of  the  pitying  earth,  870 

Golconda's  gems,  and  sad  Potosi's  mines ; 

868-9.  Fatal  treasures :  The  precious  metals,  by  attracting  the  cupidity 
and  lawless  violence  of  Spanish  adventurers,  were  fatal  to  the  happiness 
and  life  of  the  gentle  children  of  the  sun — the  simple  sun-burnt  natives  of 
those  regions.  The  word  pitying  conveys  the  beautiful  sentiment,  that 
the  earth,  in  pity  to  the  natives,  and  for  their  security  from  foreign 
rapacity,  had  hid  her  precious  minerals  deep  in  her  bowels,  that  they 
might  not  be  discovered. 

But  these  rich  mines  of  silver  and  gold  were  exceedingly  detrimental 
also  to  the  country  that  sent  forth  its  greedy  adventurers  to  exhaust 
them.  Previous  to  their  discovery  Spain  was  an  industrious  and  thriving 
country.  Under  the  reigns  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  and  Charles  V., 
Spain  was  one  of  the  most  industrious  countries  in  Europe.  Her  manufac- 
tures in  wool,  and  flax,  and  silk,  were  so  extensive  as  not  only  to  furnish 
what  was  sufficient  for  her  own  consumption,  but  to  afford  a  surplus  for 
exportation.  The  new  market  now  opened  in  America  naturally  added 
great  vivacity  and  excitement  to  the  spirit  of  industry.  Nourished  and 
invigorated  by  this,  the  manufactures,  the  population,  and  wealth  of  Spain 
might  have  gone  on  increasing  in  the  same  proportion  with  the  growth  of 
her  colonies.  Her  marine  was  also  in  a  very  flourishing  condition.  But, 
as  Robertson  further  remarks,  "  the  same  thing  happens  to  nations  as  to 
individuals.  Wealth  which  flows  in  gradually  and  with  moderate  increase, 
feeds  and  nourishes  that  activity  which  is  friendly  to  commerce,  and  calls 
it  forth  into  vigorous  and  well-conducted  exertions;  but  when  opulence 
pours  in  suddenly,  and  with  too  full  a  stream,  it  overturns  all  sober, plans 
of  industry,  and  brings  along  with  it  a  taste  for  what  is  wild  and  extrava- 
gant and  daring  in  business  or  in  action."  Philip  II.  and  Philip  III.,  men 
of  inferior  talents,  were  tempted,  under  this  impulse,  to  engage  in  ex- 
pensive wars,  draining  their  country  of  men  and  treasure.  The  rage  for 
emigration  to  the  new  countries  carried  off  more  of  the  industrious  classes 
than  could  be  spared.  These  depended  on  Spain  for  their  supplies,  but 
her  flourishing  manufactures  having  declined,  the  supply  was  sought  from 
other  countries,  so  that  in  a  short  time  not  more  than  the  twentieth  part 
of  the  commodities  exported  to  America  was  of  Spanish  growth  or  fabric. 
Thus  were  the  riches  and  strength  of  Spain  rapidly  diminished ;  so  that 
from  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  she  has  not  been  able  to  supply 
the  growing  wants  of  her  colonies,  but  other  more  industrious  nations  have 
enriched  themselves  at  her  expense. 

871.  Golconda's  gems :  A  province  of  Hindoostan  abounding  in  diamonds. 
Potosi,  in  Boh' via,  South  America,  distinguished  for  the  rich  silver  mines 


SUMMER. 

Where  dwelt  the  gentlest  children  of  the  sun  ? 
What  all  that  Afric's  golden  rivers  roll, 
Her  odorous  woods,  and  shining  ivory  stores  ? 
Ill-fated  race  !  the  softening  arts  of  peace,  8*75 

Whate'er  the  humanizing  Muses  teach ; 
The  godlike  wisdom  of  the  tempered  breast ; 
Progressive  truth,  the  patient  force  of  thought ; 
Investigation  calm,  whose  silent  powers 
Command  the  world  ;  the  light  that  leads  to  heaven ;       880 
"••'  Kind  equal  j-ule,  the  government  of  laws, 
And  all-protecting  freedom,  which  alone 
Sustains  the  name  and  dignity  of  man : 
These  are  not  theirs.     The  parent  sun  himself 
Seems  o'er  this  world  of  slaves  to  tyrannize ;  885 

And,  with  oppressive  ray,  the  roseate  bloom 
Of  beauty  blasting,  gives  the  gloomy  hue, 
And  feature  gross ;  or  worse,  to  ruthless  deeds, 
Mad  jealousy,  blind  rage,  and  fell  revenge, 
Their  fervid  spirit  fires.     Love  dwells  not  there.  890 

The  soft  regards,  the  tenderness  of  life, 
The  heart-shed  tear,  th'  ineffable  delight 
Of  sweet  humanity ;  these  court  the  beam 
Of  milder  climes ;  in  selfish  fierce  desire, 


found  in  a  conical  mountain  near  by  ;  but  they  are  now  considerably  ex- 
hausted. 

876.  Humanizing  Muses :  Female  deities  that  fostered  the  fine  arts  and 
sciences,  such  as  poetry,  music,  painting,  rhetoric,  astronomy,  <fcc.  "  It 
appears  probable,"  says  Brande,  "  that  the  early  Grecian* poets,  struck 
with  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  the  scenery  in  this  part  of  Greece 
(Helicon  and  the  region  around  Parnassus),  ascribed  the  humanizing  influ- 
ence it  was  so  well  fitted  to  exercise  over  the  mind  to  the  agency  of  the 
nymphs  and  other  tutelary  deities  of  the  place,  to  whom  they  gave  the 
name  of  Muses.''  This  name  is  supposed  to  have  been  derived  from  an 
old  Greek  verb,  meaning  to  inquire  or  invent :  and  the  Muses,  accordingly, 
are.  philosophically,  to  be  regarded  only  as  personifications  of  the  inven- 
tive powers  of  the  mind  as  displayed  in  the  various  liberal  arts  and 
sciences. 


SUMMER.  145 

And  the  wild  fury  of  voluptuous  sense,  895 

There  lost.     The  very  brute  creation  there 
This  rage  partakes,  and  burns  with  horrid  fire, 
Lo  !  the  green  serpent,  from  his  dark  abode, 
Which  e'en  Imagination  fears  to  tread, 
At  noon  forth  issuing,  gathers  up  his  train  900 

In  orbs  immense,  then,  darting  out  anew, 
Seeks  the  refreshing  fount ;  by  which  diffused, 
He  throws  his  folds  ;  and  while,  with  threatening  tongue, 
And  deathful  jaws  erect,  the  monster  curls 
His  flaming  crest,  all  other  thirst,  appalFd,  905 

Or  shivering  flies,  or  check'd  at  distance  stands, 
Nor  dares  approach.  But  still  more  direful  he, 
The  small  close-lurking  minister  of  fate, 

898.  Green  serpent:  Allusion  probably  is  made  to  the  Coluberidce, 
which  "are  particularly  distinguished  by  the  power  of  dilating  the  open- 
ing of  the  jaws  to  an  enormous  extent,  so  as  to  permit  of  animals  being 
swallowed  whicli  are  much  larger  than  the  diameter  of  the  serpent  it- 
eelf.  This  is  accomplished  by  the  separation  of  the  jaw-bones  into  vari- 
ous pieces,  which  are  very  movable  on  one  another  and  on  the  skull. 
The  most  remarkable  species  of  this  family  are  the  Boa  Constrictors  of 
the  New  World  and  the  Pythones  of  the  Old  ;  these,  when  full  grown, 
attain  the  length  of  from  thirty  to  forty  feet,  and  in  thickness  nearly 
equal  a  man's  body.  They  do  not  fear  to  attack  any  animal ;  and  if 
fhey  can  once  coil  themselves  round  it,  crush  it  by  the  enormous  com- 
bined power  of  their  muscles,  in  spite  of  all  its  means  of  resistance  and 
defence.  Their  power  is  much  increased  by  coiling  the  tail  round 
a  tree,  so  as  to  give  a  point  of  support  from  which  the  muscles  may 
act.  more  efficiently ;  and  it  is  in  this  manner  that  they  commonly 
wait  for  their  prey.  When  they  have  seized  and  entirely  destroyed  it 
by  crushing,  in  which  process  all  the  principal  bones  are  broken,  they  be- 
gin to  swallow  it.  The  process  of  digestion  takes  some  days  or  weeks, 
according  to  the  size  of  the  prey,  and  during  that  time  the  monster  lies 
in  a  very  inactive  state.  The  hair,  horns,  and  other  least  digestible  parts 
are  usually  disgorged  during  the  process." 

9.05.  All  other  thirst,  &c. :  According  to  the  reading  of  the  text,  thirst 
is  personified,  and  is  represented  as  suffering  and  doing  that  which  the 
animals  under  its  influence  suffer  and  do. 

907.  The  Viper,  probably,  is  here  referred  to,  and  especially  the  horn- 
ed viper,  or  Cerastes,  which  is  an  extremely  venomous  species. 

7 


146  SUMMER. 

Whose  high-concocted  venom  through  the  veins 

A  rapid  lightning  darts,  arresting  swift  910 

The  vital  current ;  forin'd  to  humble  man, 

This  child  of  vengeful  nature  !     There,  sublimed 

To  fearless  lust  of  blood,  the  savage  race 

Roam,  licensed  by  the  shading  hour  of  guilt, 

And  foul  misdeed,  when  the  pure  day  has  shut  915 

His  sacred  eye.     The  tiger  darting  fierce 

Impetuous  on  the  prey  his  glance  has  doom'd ; 

The  lively  shining  leopard,  speckled  o'er 

(With  many  a  spot,  the  beauty  of  the  waste  ; 

And,  scorning  all  the  taming  arts  of  man,  920 

The  keen  hyena,  fellest  of  the  fell : 

These,  rushing  from  th'  inhospitable  woods 

Of  Mauretania,  or  the  tufted  isles 


912.  As  a  recent  writer  has  observed,  in  fearful  pre-eminence  amongst 
those  animals  commonly  considered  repulsive  and  degraded  is  the  ser- 
pent, whose  history  is  unavoidably  associated  with  the  introduction  of  sin 
and  sorrow  into  the  world.  Whether  from  this  association,  or  from  an  in 
stinctive  horror  of  its  "  venomous  tooth,"  it  is  certain  that  the  serpent  is 
more  generally  dreaded  and  more  loathed,  even  by  those  who  do  not 
fear  It,  than  any  other  living  thing ;  and  yet  how  beautiful  is  its  saga- 
cious eye,  how  rich  and  splendid  its  coloring;  how  delicate  the  tracery  of 
network  thrown  all  over  its  glossy  scales,  how  graceful  and  easy  its 
meandering  movements,  as  it  winds  itself  in  among  the  rustling  grass  ; 
how  much  like  one  of  the  fairest  objects  in  nature,  a  clear  blue  river 
wandering  through  a  distant  valley  ! 

923.  Mauritania :  Ancient  Latin  name  for  the  African  territory  now 
occupied  by  the  kingdoms  of  Fez  and  Morocco,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Straits  of  Gibraltar — while  the  term  Libya  (924)  characterizes  gen- 
erally the  northern  part  of  Africa  extending  between  Mauritania  on  the 
west  and  Egypt  on  the  east,  and  to  an  indefinite  limit  southward.  It 
embraces  the  modern  kingdoms  of  Tunis  and  Tripoli.  Sometimes  Libya 
is  used  for  the  whole  African  continent.  The  tufted  isles  are  those  ver- 
dant spots,  of  great  beauty  and  utility,  that  are  occasionally  met  with 
in  crossing  the  vast  sandy  deserts  of  Africa.  They  are  watered  by 
springs.  The  name  Oasis  is  usually  applied  to  such  a  spot.  Thesfl 
spots  being  sometimes  found  in  clusters,  the  word  tufted  is  here  used  to 
express  that  fact. 


SUMMER. 

That  verdant  rise  amid  the  Libyan  wild, 
Innumerous  glare  around  their  shaggy  king,  925 

Majestic  stalking  o'er  the  printed  sand  ; 
And,  with  imperious  and  repeated  roars, 
Demand  their  fated  food.     The  fearful  flocks 
Crowd  near  the  guardian  swain.     The  nobler  herds, 
Where  round  their  lordly  bull  in  rural  ease  930 

They  ruminating  lie,  with  horror  hear 
The  coming  rage.     Th'  awaken'd  village  starts  ; 
And  to  her  fluttering  breast  the  mother  strains 
Her  thoughtless  infant.     From  the  pirate's  den, 
Or  stern  Morocco's  tyrant  fang  escaped,  935 

The  wretch  half  wishes  for  his  bonds  again  : 
While,  uproar  all,  the  wilderness  resounds, 
From  Atlas  eastward  to  the  frighted  Nile. 
_JjJnhappy  he  !  who  from  the  first  of  joys,  V 
Society,  cut  off,  is  left  alone  940 

Amid  this  world  of  death.     Day  after  day, 
Sad  on  the  jutting  eminence  he  sits, 
And  views  the  main  that  ever  toils  below ; 
Still  fondly  forming  in  the  farthest  verge, 
Where  the  round  ether  mixes  with  the  wave,  945 

Ships,  dim-discover'd,  dropping  from  the  clouds  : 
At  evening,  to  the  setting  sun  he  turns 
A  mournful  eye,  and  down  his  dying  heart 
Sinks  helpless  ;  while  the  wonted  roar  is  up,       ~^1 
And  hiss  continual  through  the  tedious  night.  950 

-    I  Yet  here,  e'en  here,  into  these  black  abodes 
I  Of  monsters,  unappall'd,  from  stooping  Rome, 
And  guilty  Caesar,  Liberty  retired, 

925.  Shaggy  king  :  The  lion. 

938.  Atlas :  A  range  of  mountains  in  the  northwestern  part  of  Afri- 
ca, extending  to  the  Great  Sahara  desert  southward.  Its  higher  summits 
are  covered  with  perpetual  snow,  being  about  12,000  feet  high  above  the 
level  of  the  ocean. 


148  SUMMER. 

5  Her  Cato  following  through  Numidian  wilds  : 


Disdainful  of  Campania's  gentle  plains,  955 

And  all  the  green  delights  Ausonia  pours  ; 
When  for  them  she  must  bend  the  servile  knee, 
And  fawning  take  the  splendid  robber's  boon. 


THE  CARAVAN  OF  MECCA. 

Nor  stop  the  terrors  of  these  regions  here. 
Commission'd  demons  oft,  angels  of  wrath,  960 

Let  loose  the  raging  elements.     Breathed  hot 
From  all  the  boundless  furnace  of  the  sky, 
And  the  wide  glittering  waste  of  burning  sand, 
A  suffocating  wind  the  pilgrim  smites 
With  instant  death.     Patient  of  thirst  and  toil,  965 

Son  of  the  desert !  even  the  camel  feels, 
Shot  through  his  wither'd  heart,  the  fiery  blast. 
Or  from  the  black-red  ether,  bursting  broad, 
Sallies  the  sudden  whirlwind.     Straight  the  sands, 
Commoved  around,  in  gathering  eddies  play  :  970 

Nearer  and  nearer  still  they  darkening  come  ; 
-    Till,  with  the  general,  all-involving  storm 
Swept  up,  the  whole  continuous  wilds  arise  ; 

954.  Cato  :  Marcus  Cato,  the  great-grandson  of  M.  Portius  Cato,  the 
Censor.  When  Rome  was  stooping  to  the  yoke  of  designing  men  ; 
when  Pompey,  Caesar,  and  Crassus  formed  a  triumvirate  for  purposes 
adverse  to  popular  liberty,  he  opposed  them.  After  the  triumph  of 
Julius  Caasar  over  his  rival,  Ponfpey,  the  friends  of  the  Roman  Republic 
rallied  their  forces  in  Africa  under  the  guidance  of  Cato  and  Scipio,  and 
enjoyed  the  aid  of  the  king  of  Numidia.  But  these  forces  were  defeat- 
ed, and  Cato,  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  Caesar,  put  an  end  to  his 
own  life  with  a  dagger,  at  Utica,  from  which  occurrence  he  is  known  by 
the  surname  of  Uticensis.  This  defeat  reduced  to  an  entire  wreck  the 
republican  party,  and  elevated  "guilty"  Cassar  to  imperial  power,  in 
fact,  though  not  in  name. 

955-G.  Campania  :  A  fertile  and  much  celebrated  district  of  Southern 
Italy.  Ausonia  designates  the  entire  southern  part  of  Italy. 


SUMMER.  149 

And  by  their  noonday  fount  dejected  thrown, 

Or  sunk  at  night  in  sad  disastrous  sleep,  975 

Beneath  descending  hills,  the  caravan 

Is  buried  deep.     In  Cairo's  crowded  streets, 

Th'  impatient  merchant,  wondering,  waits  in  vain, 

And  Mecca  saddens  at  the  long  delay. 


DISASTERS    IN    TROPICAL    SEAS. 

But  chief  at  sea,  whose  every  flexile  wave     "^  980 

Obeys  the  blast,  th'  aerial  tumult  swells. 
In  the  dread  ocean,  undulating  wide, 
Beneath  the  radiant  line  that  girts  the  globe, 
The  circling  Typhon,  whirl'd  from  point  to  point, 
Exhausting  all  the  rage  of  all  the  sky,  985 

And  dire  Ecnephia  reign.     Amid  the  heavens, 
Falsely  serene,  deep  in  a  cloudy  speck 
Compress'd,  the  mighty  tempest  brooding  dwells. 
Of  no  regard,  save  to  the  skilful  eye, 

Fiery  and  foul,  the  small  prognostic  hangs  990 

Aloft,  or  on  the  promontory's  brow 
Musters  its  force.     A  faint,  deceitful  calm, 
A  fluttering  gale,  the  demon  sends  before, 
To  tempt  the  spreading  sail.     Then  down  at  once, 
Precipitant  descends  a  mingled  mass  995 

Of  roaring  winds,  and  flame,  and  rushing  floods. 
In  wild  amazement  fix'd,  the  sailor  stands. 
Art  is  too  slow  :  by  rapid  fate  oppress'd, 
His  broad-wing'd  vessel  drinks  the  whelming  tide, 
Hid  in  the  bosom  of  the  black  abyss.  1000 

984-6.  Typhon  and  Ecnephia :  Names  of  particular  storms  or  hurri- 
canes known  only  between  the  tropics. 

98.7.  Cloudy  speck :  Called  by  sailors  the  Ox-eye,  being  in  appearance, 
at  first,  no  larger. 


150  SUMMER. 

With  such  mad  seas  the  daring  Gama  fought, 
For  many  a  day,  and  many  a  dreadful  night, 
\^     Incessant,  laboring  round  the  stormy  Cape  ; 
By  bold  ambition  led,  and  bolder  thirst 
Of  gold.     For  then,  from  ancient  gloom,  emerged        1005 
The  rising  world  of  trade.     The  Genius,  then, 
Of  navigation,  that  in  hopeless  sloth, 
Had  slumber'd  on  the  vast  Atlantic  deep, 
For  idle  ages,  starting,  heard  at  last 

The  Lusitanian  prince  ;  who,  heaven-inspired,  1010 

To  love  of  useful  glory  roused  mankind, 
And  in  unbounded  commerce  mix'd  the  world. 

Increasing  still  the  terrors  of  these  storms, 
>His  jaws  horrific  arm'd  with  threefold  fate, 
-    Here  dwells  the  direful  shark.     Lured  by  the  scent      1015 
Of  steaming  crowds,  of  rank  disease,  and  death, 

1001.  Gama :  Vasco  De  Gama,  the  first  who  sailed  round  Africa  by 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope ;  and  pursued  his  voyage  along  the  eastern 
coast  of  Africa  to  Malabar,  in  1498. 

1010.  The  Lusitanian  prince  :  The  Portuguese  prince  (Lusitania  be- 
ing the  Latin  name  of  Portugal)  here  spoken  of  was  Don  Henry,  the 
fourth  son  of  John  the  First,  king  of  Portugal — a  man  of  an  accom- 
plished mind,  enlarged  views,  daring  enterprise,  and  lofty  patriotism, 
by  whom  the  Portuguese  were  excited  to  great  improvements  and  dis- 
coveries in  navigation.  He  had  the  address  also  to  enlist  in  favor  of  his 
schemes  a  Papal  decree,  issued  at  his  entreaty  by  Pope  Eugene  IV.,  by 
which  all  the  countries  that  should  be  discovered  south  of  Cape  Non  in 
Africa  should  be  under  the  exclusive  jurisdiction  of  Portugal,  the  prince 
having  promised  to  establish  in  them  the  authority  of  the  "  Holy  See." 
The  spirit  of  discovery,  being  thus  associated  with  a  zeal  for  religion, 
was  greatly  strengthened.  It  received  a  check,  however,  for  a  time,  by 
the  death  of  this  enterprising  prince  in  1463.  In  that  dark  age,  no 
doubt  was  entertained  of  the  power  of  the  Roman  Pontiff  to  assign  to 
what  government  he  chose,  the  dominion  of  the  yet  undiscovered  por- 
tions of  the  earth. 

1016.  Steaming  crowd*:  Some  of  the  horrors  of  the  slave-trade  are 
here  powerfully  drawn ; — those  that  occur  in  the  slave-ship  from  crowd- 
ing hundreds  in  the  hold — depriving  them  of  pure  air  and  exercise,  and 
opportunity  for  cleanliness — and  engendering  fatal  disease,  so  that  a 


SUMMER. 


151 


Behold  !  he  rushing  cuts  the  briny  flood, 

Swift  as  the  gale  can  bear  the  ship  along, 

And,  fromjjie  paytaers_o£  that^crjgel  trade 

Which  spoils  unharygyj^-^iripa.  $  fag*  snnsr  1020 

Demands  his  share  of  prey  ;  demands  themselves. 

The  stormy  fates  descend  ;  one  death  involves 

Tyrants  and  slaves  ;  when  straight,  their  mangled  limbs 

Crashing  at  once,  he  dyes  the  purple  seas 

With  gore,  and  riots  in.  the  vengeful  meal.  1025 

PESTILENCE    AT    CARTHAGENA THE    PLAGUE. 

When  o'er  this  world,  by  equinoctial  rains 
Flooded  immense,  looks  out  the  joyless  sun,  if 

And  draws  the  copious  steam  ;  from  swampy  fens, 
Where  putrefaction  into  life  ferments, 
And  breathes  destructive  myriads  ;  or  from  woods,      1030 
"  Impenetrable  shades,  recesses  foul, 
In  vapors  rank  and  blue  corruption  wrapp'd, 
Whose  gloomy  horrors  yet  no  desperate  foot 
Has  ever  dared  to  pierce  ;  then  wasteful,  forth 
Walks  the  dire  Power  of  pestilent  disease.  1035 

A  thousand  hideous  fiends  her  course  attend, 
Sick  Nature  blasting,  and  to  heartless  woe, 
And  feeble  desolation,  casting  down 
The  towering  hopes  and  all  the  pride  of  man : 
Such  as,  of  late,  at  Carthagena  quench'd  1040 

The  British  fire.     You,  gallant  Yernon,  saw 
The  miserable  scene ;  you,  pitying,  saw 


very  large  proportion  of  the  slaves  put  on  board  is  lost  during  the 
passage. 

1042.  Carthagena  :  A  city  of  Colombia,  South  America.  It  stands 
upon  an  island,  winch  is  joined  to  the  main-land  by  two  bridges.  In 
1826  its  population  was  26,000.  The  pestilence  occurred  in  1740,  when 
Admiral  Vernon  was  endeavoring  to  take  the  town,  and  was  one  of  the 


152  SUMMER. 

To  infant  weakness  sunk  the  warrior's  arm  ; 
Saw  the  deep-racking  pang,  the  ghastly  form, 

^The  lip  ^ale-quivering,  and  the  beamless^eye.  1045 

No  more  with  ardor  bright.     You  heard  the  groans 
Of  agonizing  ships  from  shore  to  shore ; 
Heard,  nightly  plunged  amid  the  sullen  waves, 
The  frequent  corse  ;  while  on  each  other  fix'd, 
In  sad  presage,  the  blank  assistants  seem'd,  1050 

Silent,  to  ask,  whom  Fate  would  next  demand. 
S  What  need  I  mention  those  inclement  skies, 

f  Where,  frequent  o'er  the  sickening  city,  Plague, 
The  fiercest  child  of  Nemesis  divine, 

Descends  ?     From  Ethiopia's  poison'd  woods,  1055 

From  stifled  Cairo's  filth,  and  fetid  fields 
With  locust  armies  putrefying  heap'd, 
This  great  destroyer  sprung.     Her  awful  rage 
The  brutes  escape  :  man  is  her  destined  prey, 
Intemperate  man  !  and,  o'er  his  guilty  domes,  1060 

events  that  prevented  him  from  completing  his  design.  See  Rissell's 
Modern  Europe,  vol.  ii.  414-17. 

104G-9.  You  heard,  <fcc. :  Xot  only  the  eye,  but  the  ear,  is  called  as  a 
witness,  and  a  terrible  one  it  proves. — C.  This  passage  in  the  poem  has 
been  thus  judiciously  characterized  by  Dr.  Blair  : — All  the  circumstances 
are  properly  chosen,  for  setting  this  dismal  scene  in  a  strong  light  before 
our  eyes.  But  what  is  most  striking  in  the  picture,  is  the  last  image. 
"SVe  are  conducted  through  all  the  scenes  of  distress  till  we  come  to  the 
mortality  prevailing  in  the  fleet,  which  a  vulgar  poet  would  have  de- 
scribed by  exaggerated  expressions  concerning  the  multiplied  trophies 
and  victories  of  death.  But  how  much  more  is  the  imagination  impress- 
ed by  this  single  circumstance  of  dead  bodies  thrown  overboard  every 
night ;  of  the  constant  sound  of  their  falling  into  the  waters,  and  of  the 
Admiral  listening  to  this  melancholy  sound  so  often  striking  the  ear  ! 
This  passage  shows  the  power  of  a  single  well-chosen  circumstance  to 
heighten  a  description. 

1054.  jVijMem  divine  :  Allusion  is  here  made  to  a  Grecian  goddess,  the 
personification  of  the  retributive  justice  of  the  gods.  The  Plague  is  here 
poetically  represented  as  her  child,  because  it  is  often  employed  as  an  in- 
fetrument  of  divine  justice  and  retribution. 

1055-8.  Dr.  Mead  assigns  these  as  causes  of  the  plague. 


SUMMER.  153 

She  draws  a  close  incumbent  cloud  of  deatli ; 

Uninterrupted  by  the  living  winds, 

Forbid  to  blow  a  wholesome  breeze  ;  and  stain'd 

With  many  a  mixture  by  the  sun,  suffused, 

Of  angry  aspect.     Princely  wisdom,  then,  1065 

Dejects  his  watchful  eye  ;  and  from  the  hand 

Of  feeble  justice,  ineffectual,  drop 

The  sword  and  balance.     Mute  the  voice  of  joy, 

And  hush'd  the  clamor  of  the  busy  world. 

Empty  the  streets,  with  uncouth  verdure  clad;  1070 

Into  the  worst  of  deserts  sudden  turn'd 

The  cheerful  haunt  of  men  ;  unless  escaped 

From  the  doom'd  house,  where  matchless  horror  reigns, 

Shut  up  by  barbarous  fear,  the  smitten  wretch, 

With  phrensy  wild,  breaks  loose  ;  and,  loud  to  Heaven  1075 

Screaming,  the  dreadful  policy  arraigns, 

Inhuman,  and  unwise.     The  sullen  door, 

Yet  uninfected,  on  its  cautious  hinge 

Fearing  to  turn,  abhors  society  : 

Dependents,  friends,  relations,  Love  himself,  1080 

Savaged  by  woe,  forget  the  tender  tie, 

The  sweet  engagement  of  the  feeling  heart. 

But  vain  their  selfish  care  :  the  circling  sky, 

The  wide  enlivening  air  is  full  of  fate ; 

And,  struck  by  turns,  in  solitaVy  pangs  1085 

They  fall,  unbless'd,  untended,  and  unmourn'd. 

Thus  o'er  the  prostrate  city  black  Despair 

Extends  her  raven  wing  ;  while,  to  complete 

1068.  The  sword  and  balance:  The  instruments,  or  emblems,  of  Jus- 
tice :  the  balance  to  determine  the  amount  of  wrong  to  be  punished,  and 
the  sword  to  inflict  the  appropriate  punishment. 

1084.  Fate  :  Death  as  an  unavoidable  event. 

1088.  Raven  wing  :  The  raven  has  always  been  regarded  by  the  supersti 
tious  as  a  bird  of  ill  omen  ;  and  much  (says  Mrs.  Ellis)  as  we  may  be  disposed 
to  despise  such  prognostications  as  the  flight  or  the  cry  of  different  birds, 
there  is  something  in  the  habits,  but  especially  in  the  voice  of  the  raven, 


154 


SUMMER. 


The  scene  of  desolation,  stretch'd  around, 

The  grim  guards  stand,  denying  all  retreat,  1090 

And  give  the  flying  wretch  a  better  death. 
Much  yet  remains  unsung  :  the  rage  intense 

Of  brazen  vaulted  skies,  of  iron  fields, 

Where  drought  and  famine  starve  the  blasted  year ; 

Fired  by  the  torch  of  noon  to  tenfold  rage,  1095 

Th'  infuriate  hill  that  shoots  the  pillar'd  flame  ; 

And,  roused  within  the  subterranean  world, 

Th7  expanding  earthquake,  that  resistless  shakes 

Aspiring  cities  from  their  solid  base, 

j  And  buries  mountains  in  the  flaming  gulf.  1100 

^  .But  'tis  enough.     Return,  my  vagrant  Muse  : 
*  >  A  nearer  scene  of  horror  calls  thee  home. 

vl 

A    TREMENDOUS    STORM    IX    BRITAIN,    y 

,A 

f-H*  Behold,  slow  settling  o'er  the  lurid  grove, 
^T   Unusual  darkness  broods  ;  and  growing  gains 
K     The  full  possession  of  the  sky,  surcharged  .    1105 

With  wrathful  vapor,  from  the  secret  beds, 
Where  sleep  the  mineral  generations,  drawn. 
Thence  nitre,  sulphur,  and  the  fiery  spume 


•which  gives  it  a  strange  and  almost  fearful  character.  It  seems  to  hold 
no  communion  with  the  joyous  spirits,  to  have  no  association  with  the 
happy  scenes  of  earth,  but  leads  a  lengthened  and  unsocial  life  amongst 
the  gloomy  shades  of  the  venerable  forest,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the 
pathless  mountain,  or  on  the  rocky  summit  of  the  beetling  crag  that  over- 
looks the  ocean's  blue  abyss  ;  and  when  it  goes  forth,  with  its  sable  pin- 
ions spread  like  the  wings  of  a  dark  angel  upon  the  wind,  its  hoarse  and 
hollow  croak  echoes  from  rock  to  rock,  as  if  telling,  in  those  dreary  and 
appalling  tones,  of  the  fleshy  feast  to  which  it  is  hastening,  of  the  death- 
pangs  of  the  mountain  deer,  of  the  cry  of  the  perishing  kid,  and  of  the 
bones  of  the  shipwrecked  seaman  whitening  in  the  surge. 

1103-68.  The  coming  of  the  summer  thunder-storm  is  painted  by  a 
masterly  hand — terrible  at  once,  and  soft. — C. 


SUMMER. 

Of  fat  bitumen,  steaming  on  the  day, 

With  various-tinctured  trains  of  latent  flame,  ] 

Pollute  the  sky,  and  in  yon  baleful  cloud, 

A  reddening  gloom,  a  magazine  of  fate 

Ferment ;  till,  by  the  touch  ethereal  roused, 

The  dash  of  clouds,  or  irritating  war 

Of  fighting  winds,  while  all  is  calm  below,  1 

They  furious  spring.     A  boding  silence  reigns, 

Dread  through  the  dun  expanse  ;  save  the  dull  sound 

That  from  the  mountain,  previous  to  the  storm, 

Rolls  o'er  the  muttering  earth,  disturbs  the  flood, 

And  shakes  the  forest-leaf  without  a  breath.  1 

Prone  to  the  lowest  vale  the  aerial  tribes 

Descend  :  the  tempest-loving  raven  scarce        ^- 

Dares  wing  the  dubious  dusk.     In  rueful  gaze 

The  cattle  stand,  and  on  the  scowling  heavens 

Cast  a  deploring  eye ;  by  man  forsook,  1 

Who  to  the  crowded  cottage  hies  him  fast, 

Or  seeks  the  shelter  of  the  downward  cave. 

'Tis  listening  fear,  and  dumb  amazement  all : 
When  to  the  startled  eye  the  sudden  glance       * 
Appears  far  south,  eruptive  through  the  cloud  ;  ] 

And,  following  slower,  in  explosion  vast, 
The  thunder  raises  his  tremendous  voice. 
At  first,  heard  solemn  o'er  the  verge  of  heaven, 
The  tempest  growls  ;  but  as  it  nearer  comes, 
And  rolls  its  awful  burden  on  the  wind,  ] 

The  lightnings  flash  a  larger  curve,  and  more 
The  noise  astounds  :  till  overhead  a  sheet 
Of  livid  flame  discloses  wide  ;  then  shuts       « 
And  opens  wider ;  shuts  and  opens  still       ^  ' 
Expansive,  wrapping  ether  in  a  blaze.  ] 

Follows  the  loosen'd  aggravated  roar, 

1113.  Touch  ethereal :  Application  of  lightning  or  electricity. 


156 


SUMMER. 


Enlarging,  deepening,  mingling  ;  peal  on  peal 

•  Crush'd  horrible,  convulsing  heaven  and  earth. 

Down  comes  a  deluge  of  sonorous  hail, 
Or  prone- descending  rain.     Wide  rent,  the  clouds        1145 
Pour  a  whole  flood  ;  and  yet,  its  flnme  unquench'd, 
TV  unconquerable  lightning  struggles  through, 
Ragged  and  fierce,  or  in  red  whirling  balls, 
And  fires  the  mountains  with  redoubled  ra^e 

o 

Black  from  the  stroke,  above,  the  smouldering  pine      1150 
Stands  a  sad  shatter'd  trunk  ;  and,  stretch'd  below, 
A  lifeless  group,  the  blasted  cattle  lie  : 
Here  the  soft  flocks,  with  that  same  harmless  look 
They  wore  alive,  and  ruminating  still 

In  fancy's  eye  ;  and  there  the  frowning  bull,  1155 

And  ox  half-raised.     Struck  on  the  castled  cliff, 
The  venerable  tower  and  spiry  fane 
Resign  their  aged  pride.     The  gloomy  woods 
iStart  at  the  flash,  and  from  their  deep  recess, 
\Wide  flaming  out,  their  trembling  inmates  shake.  1160 

*  'Amid  Carnarvon's  mountains  rages  loud 
The  repercussive  roar  :  with  mighty  crush, 

1150-56.  Black  from  the  stroke,  &c. :  Dugald  Stewart  selects  this  pas- 
sage as  an  example  of  the  picturesque  in  writing,  by  which  he  means  that 
graphical  power  by  which  poetry  and  eloquence  produce  effects  on  the 
mind  analogous  to  those  of  a  picture.  He  does  not  limit  that  epithet  to 
objects  of  sight,  but  extends  it  to  all  those  details,  of  whatever  kind,  by 
a  happy  selection  of  which  the  imagination  may  be  forcibly  impressed. 
The  epithet  picturesque  is  also  applied  by  Dr.  "Wart on  to  a  passage  in 
"  Winter"  (732-38),  where  every  circumstance  mentioned  recalls  some 
impression  upon  the  ear  alone. — STEWARTS  WORKS,  vol.  iv.  224-5. 

1161.  Carnarvon,  or  Caernarvonshire,  is  a  northern  county  of  Wales, 
very  rugged.  Its  mountains  are  called  in  general  the  Cambrian  Alps — 
Snowde?i's  peak  occupies  a  lofty  central  position  among  them,  being  3571 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Pemnaenmaur  is  an  inferior  mountain 
elevation  in  the  same  county.  The  Cheviot  heights  are  a  range  of  low 
mountains  in  the  north  of  England,  and  passing  beyond  the  border  into 
Scotland.  They  are  chiefly  famous  as  the  scene  of  bloody  warfare  be- 
tween the  English  and  the  Scotch  before  the  union  of  the  two  kingdoms. 


SUMMEK.  157 

Into  the  flashing  deep,  from  the  rude  rocks 

Of  Penmanmaur  heap'd  hideous  to  the  sky, 

Tumble  the  smitten  cliffs;  and  Snowden's  peak,  1165 

Dissolving,  instant  yields  his  wintry  load. 

Far  seen,  the  heights  of  heathy  Cheviot  blaze, 

And  Thule  bellows  through  her  utmost  isles. 


SAD    TALE    OF    CELADON    AND    AMELIA. 

Guilt  hears  appall'd,  with  deeply  troubled  thought ; 
And  yet  not  always  on  the  guilty  head  1170 

Descends  the  fated  flash.     Young  Celadon 
And  his  Amelia  were  a  matchless  pair  ; 
With  equal  virtue  form'd,  and  equal  grace, 
The  same,  distinguish 'd  by  their  sex  alone  : 
Hers  the  mild  lustre  of  the  blooming  mornj  1175 

And  his  the  radiance  of  the  risen  day.         j 
|     They  loved  :  but  such  the  guileless  passion  was, 
As  in  the  dawn  of  time  inform'd  the  heart 

Of  innocence,  and  undissemblino:  truth  :        \ 
/     I  \ 

V        'Twas  friendship  heighten'd  by  the  mutual  wisnN  1180 

Th'  enchanting  hope  and  sympathetic  glow, 
Beam'd  from  the  mutual  eye.     Devoting  all 
*  To  love,  each  was  to  each  a  dearer  self ; 
Supremely  happy  in  th'  awaken'd  power 
Of  giving  joy.     Alone,  amid  the  shades,  1185 

Still  in  harmonious  intercourse  they  lived 

The  ancient  ballad  of  Chevy  Chace  celebrates  the  fierce  encounter  be- 
tween the  Earls  Percy  and  Douglas. 

1168.  Thule :  Thomson  speaks  of  her  utmost  isles,  as  they  at  one  time 
formed  the  extreme  northern  limit  of  geographical  knowledge,  and  hence 
called  Ultima  Thule.  There  is  a  dispute  about  the  precise  location  desig- 
nated by  this  name  among  the  ancients.  The  Thule  mentioned  by  Taci- 
tus corresponds  with  Mainland,  the  largest  of  the  forty  Shetland  islands 
off  the  northern  coast  of  Scotland.  To  this  Thomson  seems  to  refer. 

1178.  Informed:  Animated. 


158  SUMMER. 

The  rural  day,  and  talk'd  the  flowing  heart, 
>—      Or  sigh'd  and  look'd  unutterable  things.     *~^T~ 

So  pass'd  their  life,  a  clear,  united  stream, 
By  care  unruffled  ;  till,  in  evil  hour,  il90 

The  tempest  caught  them  on  the  tender  walk, 
Heedless  how  far  and  where  its  mazes  stray'd  ; 
While,  with  each  other  bless'd,  creative  love 
Still  bade  eternal  Eden  smile  around. 

Presaging  instant  fate,  her  bosom  heaved  1195 

Unwonted  sighs,  and,  stealing  oft  a  look 
Of  the  big  gloom,  on  Celadon  her  eye 
Fell  tearful,  wetting  her  disordered  cheek. 
In  vain,  assuring  love  and  confidence 

In  Heaven  repress'd  her  fear  ;  it  grew,  and  shook        1200 
Her  frame  near  dissolution.     He  perceived 
Th'  unequal  conflict ;  and  as  angels  look 
On  dying  saints,  his  eyes  compassion  shed, 
With  love  illumined  high.     "  Fear  not,"  he  said, 
"  Sweet  innocence  !  thou  stranger  to  offence,  1205 

And  inward  storm  !     He,  who  yon  skies  involves 
In  frowns  of  darkness,  ever  smiles  on  thee 
With  kind  regard.     O'er  thee  the  secret  shaft 
That  wastes  at  midnight,  or  th'  undreaded  hour 
Of  noon,  flies  harmless  ;  and  that  very  voice,  1210 

Which  thunders  terror  through  the  guilty  heart, 
With  tongues  of  seraphs,  whispers  peace  to  thine. 
'Tis  safety  to  be  near  thee  sure,  and  thus 
To  clasp  perfection  !"     From  his  void  embrace, 
(Mysterious  Heaven  !)  that  moment,  to  the  ground,     1215 
A  blacken'd  corse,  was  struck  the  beauteous  maid. 
But  who  can  paint  the  lover,  as  he  stood, 
Pierced  by  severe  amazement,  hating  life, 

1193.   Creative  love :  Their  mutual  love  transformed  the  scene  around 
them  into  another  Eden,  or  caused  them  to  regard  it  as  such. 


SUMMER.  159 

s,  and  fix'd  in  all  the  death  of  woe  ! 
So,  (faint  resemblance  !)  on  the  marble  tomb,  1220 

The  well-dissembled  mourner  stooping  stands, 
Forever  silent  and  forever  sad. 

As  from  the  face  of  heaven,  the  shatter 'd  clouds 
Tumultuous  rove,  th'  interminable  sky 
Sublimer  swells,  and  o'er  the  world  expands  1225 

A  purer  azure.     Through  the  lighten'd  air, 
A  higher  lustre  and  a  clearer  calm, 
Diffusive,  tremble  ;  while,  as  if  in  sign 
Of  danger  past,  a  glittering  robe  of  joy, 
Set  off  abundant  by  the  yellow  ray,  1230 

Invests  the  fields  ;  and  nature  smiles,  revived. 

'Tis  beauty  all,  and  grateful  song  around,  V 
Join'd  to  the  low  of  kine,  and  numerous  bleat         / 
Of  flocks,  thick  nibbling  through  the  clover'd  vale 
And  shall  the  hymn  be  marr'd  by  thankless  man,        1235 
Most  favor'd !  who  with  voice  articulate 
Should  lead  the  chorus  of  this  lower  world  ? 
Shall  he,  so  soon  forgetful  of  the  Hand 
That  hush'd  the  thunder,  and  serenes  the  sky, 
Extinguish'd  feel  that  spark  the  tempest  waked,  1240 

That  sense  of  powers  exceeding  far  his  own, 
Ere  yet  his  feeble  heart  has  lost  its  fears  ? 

Cheer'd  by  the  milder  beam,  the  sprightly  youth 
Speeds  to  the  well-known  pool,  whose  crystal  depth     *~ 
A  sandy  bottom  shows.     A  while  he  stands        ,         1245 
Gazing  th'  inverted  landscape,  half  afraid 
To  meditate  the  bliie^pa^ofeaftd- below  ;  •/~~" 

Then  plunges  headlong  down  the  circling  flood. 
His  ebon  tresses  and  his  rosy  cheek 

1235-42.  Hazlitt  has  well  remarked  of  Thomson,  that  he  always  giv^esl 
a  moral  sense  to  nature.  His  reflections  are  often,  as  here,  of  a  highly  1 
practical  and  useful  character. 

1246.   Gazing :  Gazing  at,  <fcc. 


160  SUMMKK. 

Instant  emerge:  and,  through  th'  obedient  wave,          1250 

At  each  short  breathing  by  his  lip  repell'd, 

With  arms  and  legs  according  well,  he  makes, 

As  humor  leads,  an  easy- winding  path  ; 

While,  from  his  polish'd  sides,  a  dewy  light 

Effuses  on  the  pleased  spectators  round.  1255 

This  is  the  purest  exercise  of  health, 
The  kind  refresher  of  the  Summer  heats  ; 
Nor  when  cold  Winter  keens  the  brightening  flood, 
Would  I  weak  shivering  lino-er  on  the  brink. 

•w'  ~  ^ 

Thus  life  redoubles,  and  is  oft  preserved,  1260 

By  the  bold  swimmer,  in  the  swift  elapse 

Of  accident  disastrous.     Hence  the  limbs 

Knit  into  force  ;  and  the  same  Roman  arm, 

That  rose  victorious  o'er  the  conquer'd  earth, 

First  learn'd,  while  tender,  to  subdue  the  wave.  1266 

E'en  from  the  body's  purity,  the  mind 

Receives  a  secret  sympathetic  aid. 

DAMON    AND    MUSIDORA. 

Close  in  the  covert  of  a  hazel  copse, 
Where  winding  into  pleasing  solitudes 
Runs  out  the  rambling  dale,  young  Damon  sat,  1270 

Pensive,  and  pierced  with  love's  delightful  pangs. 
There,  to  the  stream  that  down  the  distant  rocks 
Hoarse  murmuring  fell,  and  plaintive  breeze  that  play'd 
Among  the  bending  willows,  falsely  he 
Of  Musidora's  cruelty  complain'd.  1275 

She  felt  his  flame  ;  but  deep  within  her  breast 
In  bashful  coyness,  or  in  maiden  pride, 
The  soft  return  conceal'd  ;  save  when  it  stole 


1263.  Roman  arm :  Probably  that  of  Julius  Caesar,  whose  swimming 
across  the  Tiber  Shakspeare  describes. 


SUMMER.  161 

In  sidelong  glances  from  her, downcast  eye, 

Or  from  her  swelling  soul  in  stifled  sighs.  1280 

Touch'd  by  the  scene,  no  stranger  to  his  vows, 

He  framed  a  melting  lay,  to  try  her  heart ; 

And,  if  an  infant  passion  struggled  there, 

To  call  that  passion  forth.     Thrice  happy  swain  ! 

A  lucky  chance,  that  oft  decides  the  fate  1285 

Of  mighty  monarchs,  then  decided  thine. 

For  lo  !  conducted  by  the  laughing  Loves, 

This  cool  retreat  his  Musidora  sought. 

Warm  in  her  cheek  the  sultry  season  glow'd ; 

And,  robed  in  loose  array,  she  came  to  bathe  1290 

Her  fervent  limbs  in  the  refreshing  stream. 

What  shall  he  do  ?     In  sweet  confusion  lost, 

And  dubious  flutterings,  he  a  while  remained. 

A  pure  ingenuous  elegance  of  soul, 

A  delicate  refinement,  known  to  few,  1295 

Perplex'd  his  breast,  and  urged  him  to  retire ; 

But  love  forbade.     Ye  prudes  in  virtue,  say, 

Say,  ye  severest,  what  would  you  have  done  ? 

Meantime,  this  fairer  nymph  than  ever  bless'd 

Arcadian  stream,  with  timid  eye  around  1300 


1288,  (fee.  Musidora,  &c. :  Some  remarks  of  Chambers  may  here  interest 
the  reader : — Though  born  a  poet,  Thomson  seems  to  have  advanced  but 
'  slowly,  and  by  reiterated  efforts,  to  refinement  of  taste.  The  natural  fer- 
vor of  the  man  overpowered  the  rules  of  the  scholar.  The  first  edition 
of  the  "  Seasons"  differs  materially  from  the  second,  and  the  second  still 
more  from  the  third.  Every  alteration  was  an  improvement  in  delicacy 
of  thought  and  language,  of  which  we  may  mention  one  instance.  In  the 
scene  between  Damon  and  Musidora — "  the  solemnly-ridiculous  bathing," 
as  Campbell  had  justly  termed  it — the  poet  had  originally  introduced 
three  damsels.  Some  corrections  in  the  language  also  were  made,  by 
which  greater  propriety  has  been  secured. 

1300.  Arcadian  stream:  Arcadia,  in  Peloponnesus,  was  the  Alpine 
region  of  Greece,  and  the  source  of  many  rivers  and  lesser  streams.  It 
was  wild,  romantic,  and  in  some  parts  fertile — just  the  region  for  fair 
Nymphs  and  other  similar  deities  of  the  imaginative  Greeks. 


162  SUMMER. 

The  banks  surveying,  stripp'd  her  beauteous  limbs, 
To  taste  the  lucid  coolness  of  the  flood. 
Ah  then  !  not  Paris  on  the  piny  top 
Of  Ida  panted  stronger,  when  aside 

The  rival  goddesses  the  veil  divine  1305 

Cast  unconfined,  and  gave  him  all  their  charms, 
Than,  Damon,  thou ;  as  from  the  snowy  leg, 
And  slender  foot,  th'  inverted  silk  she  drew  ; 
As  the  soft  touch  dissolved  the  virgin  zone  ; 
And,  through  the  parting  robe,  th'  alternate  breast,     1310 
With  youth  wild  throbbing,  on  the  lawless  gaze 
In  full  luxuriance  rose.     But,  desperate  youth, 
How  durst  thou  risk  the  soul-distracting  view ; 
As  from  her  naked  limbs  of  glowing  white, 
Harmonious  swell'd  by  Nature's  finest  hand,  1315 

In  folds  loose  floating  fell  the  fainter  lawn ; 
And  fair  exposed  she  stood,  shrunk  from  herself, 
With  fancy  blushing,  at  the  doubtful  breeze 
Alarm'd,  and  starting  like  the  fearful  fawn  ? 
Then  to  the  flood  she  rush'd  ;  the  parted  flood  1320 

Its  lovely  guest  with  closing  waves  received  ; 
And  every  beauty  softening,  every  grace 
Flushing  anew,  a  mellow  lustre  shed  : 
I  As  shines  the  lily  through  the  crystal  mild  ; 
Or  as  the  rose  amid  the  morning  dew,  1325 

Fresh  from  Aurora's  hand,  more  sweetly  glows. 


1303.  Paris,  son  of  Priam  king  of  ancient  Troy.  The  classical  fable, 
so  far  as  alluded  to,  is  briefly  this,  as  given  by  Anthon : — Juno,  Minerva, 
and  Venus,  each  laving  claim  to  be  more  beautiful  than  the  rest,  and  Jove 
being  unwilling  to  decide,  the  god  commanded  Mercury  to  lead  the  three 
deities  to  Mount  Ida  (near  Troy),  and  to  intrust  the  decision  of  the  affair 
to  the  shepherd  Alexaifthr  (another  name  for  Paris),  whose  judgment  was 
to  be  definitive.  The  goddesses  appeared  before  him,  and  urged  their 
respective  claims,  and  each,  to  influence  his  decision,  made  him  an  allur- 
ing offer  of  future  advantage. 

1326.  Aurora 's  hand :  Another  beautiful  fiction  of  Grecian  poets,  rep- 


SUMMER.  163 

While  thus  she  wanton'd,  now  beneath  the  wave 

But  ill  conceal'd ;  and  now  with  streaming  locks, 

That  half  embraced  her  in  a  humid  veil, 

Rising  again,  the  latent  Damon  drew  1330 

Such  maddening  draughts  of  beauty  to  the  soul, 

As  for  a  while  o'erwhelm'd  his  raptured  thought 

With  luxury  too  daring.     Check'd,  at  last, 

By  love's  respectful  modesty,  he  deem'd 

The  theft  profane,  if  aught  profane  to  love  1335 

Can  e'er  be  deem'd  ;  and,  struggling  from  the  shade, 

With  headlong  hurry  fled  :  but  first  these  lines, 

Traced  by  his  ready  pencil,  on  the  bank 

With  trembling  hand  he  threw  : — "  Bathe  on,  my  fair, 

Yet  unbeheld  save  by  the  sacred  eye  1340 

Of  faithful  love :  I  go  to  guard  thy  haunt, 

To  keep  from  thy  recess  each  vagrant  foot, 

And  each  licentious  eye."     With  wild  surprise, 

As  if  to  marble  struck,  de\7oid  of  sense, 

A  stupid  moment  motionless  she  stood;  1345 

So  stands  the  statue  that  enchants  the  world  ; 


resenting  the  goddess  of  the  morning  dawn.  "  Homer  describes  her  as 
wearing  a  flowing  veil,  which  she  throws  back  to  denote  the  dispersion 
of  night,  and  as  opening  with  her  rosy  fingers  the  gates  of  day.  Others 
represent  her  as  a  Nymph  cnnvned  with  flowers,  with  a  star  above  her 
head,  standing  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  winged  horses,  while  in  one  hand 
she  holds  a  torch,  and  with  the  other  scatters  roses,  as  illustrative  of  the 
flowers  springing  from  the  dew,  which  the  poets  describe  as  diffused  from 
the  eyes  of  the  goddess  in  liquid  pearls." — ANTHOX. 

1346.  The  statue,  (fee.:  That  of  Venus  cle  Medicis  at  Florence.  The 
Royal  Gallery  at  Florence  (says  Dr.  Wilbur  Fisk)  is  a  collection  of  stat- 
uary, ancient  and  modern,  made  by  the  successive  sovereigns  of  Tuscany, 
and  especially  by  the  Medici  family.  The  princes  of  this  family,  who  ap- 
pear to  owe  their  first  elevation  to  wealth  accumulated  in  the  commerce 
of  the  Levant,  applied  a  portion  of  their  vast  means  to  the  encourage- 
ment of  the  arts  and  of  literature,  and  to  the  collection  of  the  most  rare 
specimens  of  the  ancient  artists  that  had  survived  the  wreck  of  the  north- 
ern barbarians.  Here  among  other  ancient  statues  is  the  famous  Venus 
of  Medici,  that  chef  tf&uvre  of  art,  the  beau  ideal  of  beauty,  the  wonder 


164:  SUMMEK. 

So  bending  tries  to  veil  the  matchless  boast, 

The  mingled  beauties  of  exulting  Greece. 

Recovering,  swift  she  flew  to  find  those  robes 

Which  blissful  Eden  knew  not;  and,  array 'd  1350 

In  careless  haste,  th'  alarming  paper  snatch'd. 

But,  when  her  Damon's  well-known  hand  she  saw, 

Her  terrors  vanish 'd,  and  a  softer  train 

Of  mix'd  emotions,  hard  to  be  described, 

Her  sudden  bosom  seized  :  shame  void  of  guilt,  1355 

The  charming  blush  of  innocence,  esteem, 

And  admiration  of  her  lover's  flame, 

By  modesty  exalted.     E'en  a  sense 

Of  self-approving  beauty  stole  across 

Her  busy  thought.     At  length,  a  tender  calm  1360 

Hush'd  by  degrees  the  tumult  of  her  soul ; 

And  on  the  spreading  beech,  that  o'er  the  stream 

Incumbent  hung,  she  with  a  sylvan  pen 

Of  rural  lovers,  this  confession  carved, 

Which  soon  her  Damon  kiss'd  with  weeping  joy  :         1365 

"  Dear  youth  !  sole  judge  of  what  these  verses  mean, 

By  fortune  too  much  favor'd,  but  by  love, 

Alas  !  not  favor'd  less,  be  still  as  now 

Discreet ;  the  time  may  come  you  need  not  fly." 

of  the  world.  This  statue  was  found  in  Adrian's  villa  at  Rome,  and  is 
very  generally  attributed  to  Praxiteles,  the  Greek  artist,  and,  if  correct- 
ly, it  has  been  in  being  between  twenty-one  and  twenty-two  hundred 
years,  as  Praxiteles  flourished  more  than  three  hundred  years  before  the 
Christian  era  ! 

Another  Venus  has  risen  up  at  Florence  in  modern  days,  from  the 
chisel  of  Canova,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  some,  rivals  the  antique.  It  ev- 
idently has  the  advantage  of  the  other  in  that  she  has  a  drapery  thrown 
around  her,  which,  instead  of  concealing,  rather  heightens  her  charms ; 
and  also  that  she  has,  in  the  judgment  of  many,  a  better  head  and  a  no- 
bler countenance ;  but  the  limbs  and  general  form  are  in  other  respects 
inferior.  But  to  be  only  inferior  to  the  former  is  great  merit ;  and  to  be 
superior  in  any  respect  is  more  meritorious  stilL 


converse 


1380 


SUMMER.  165 


THE    SOFT    HOUR    FOB    WALKING. 

The  sun  has  lost  his  rage  :  his  downward  orb  1370 

Shoots  nothing  now  but  animating  warmth, 

And  vital  lustre  ;  that,  with  various  ray,  OjU^-vv- 

Lights  up  the  clouds,  those  beauteous  robes  of  heaven, 

Incessant  roll'd  into  romantic  shapes, 
\,         The  dream  of  waking  fancy !     Broad  below,  1375 

Cover'd  with  ripening  fruits,  and  swelling  fast          , 

Into  the  perfect  year,  the  pregnant  earth 

And  all  her  tribes  rejoice.     Now  the  soft  hour 

/Of  walking  comes,  for  him,  wh 

-,       I  To  seek  the  distant  hills,  and  there 

I  With  Nature  ;  there  to  harmonize  his  heart, 

And  in  pathetic  song  to  breathe  around 
j  The  harmony  to  others.     Social  friends, 

Attuned  to  happy  unison  of  soul, 

To  whose  exalting  eye  a  fairer  world,  1385 

Of  which  the  vulgar  never  had  a  glimpse, 

Displays  its  charms  ;  whose  minds  are  richly  fraught 

With  philosophic  stores,  superior  light ; 

And  in  whose  breast,  enthusiastic,  burns 

Virtue,  the  sons  of  int'rest  deem  romance,-^^—  1390 

Now  call'd  abroad,  enjoy  the  falling  day : 

Now  to  the  verdant  Portico  of  woods, 

1392-3.  Portico:  There  seems  to  be  a  reference  here  to  the  porch  of 
Zeno  at  Athens,  in  which  he  delivered  his  philosophical  lectures.  His 
followers  were  hence  called  Stoics,  or  men  of  the  porch.  It  was  a  public 
portico,  adorned  with  paintings  of  the  best  Grecian  masters.  The 
Lyceum  was  an  inclosure,  sacred  to  Apollo,  near  Athens,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Ilissus,  just  beyond  the  city  proper.  It  was  adorned  by 
Pisistratus,  Pericles,  and  Lycurgus,  with  fountains,  buildings,  and  planta- 
tions, and  thus  became  a  favorite  place  of  exercise  for  the  Athenian 
youths  that  were  preparing  for  military  service.  It  was  also  a  common 
resort  for  philosophers  and  students.  Aristotle  and  his  successors  gave 
instruction  there  while  walking  about,  and  were  hence  denominated 
Peripatetics.  Some  suppose,  however,  that  this  name  was  derived  from 


166  SUMMER. 

To  Nature's  vast  Lyceum,  forth  they  walk ; 
.    By  that  kind  school  where  no  proud  master  reigns, 
The  full,  free  converse  of  the  friendly  heart,  1395 

Improving  and  improved.     Now  from  the  world, 
Sacred  to  sweet  retirement,  lovers  steal, 
And  pour  their  souls  in  transport,  which  the  Sire 
0£  love  approving  hears,  and  calls  it  good. 
Which  way,  Amanda,  shall  we  bend  our  course  ?          1400 
The  choice  perplexes.     Wherefore  should  we  choose  ? 
All  is  the  same  with  thee.     Say,  shall  we  wind 
Along  the  streams  ?  or  walk  the  smiling  mead  ? 
Or  court  the  forest  glades  ?  or  wander  wild 
Among  the  waving  harvest  ?  or  ascend,  1405 

While  radfont  Summer  opens  all  its  pride, 
Thy  hill,  delightful  Shene  ?     Here  let  us  sweep 
The  boundless  landscape  :  now  the  raptured  eye, 
Exulting  swift,  to  huge  Augusta  send  ;  m 

Now  to  the  Sister-hills  that  skirt  her  plain,  1410 

To  lofty  Harrow  now,  and  now  to  where 

the  public  walk  in  the  Lyceum,  where  Aristotle  and  his  disciples  were 
accustomed  to  meet  for  purposes  of  instruction.  Thomson,  in  the  next 
line,  refers  to  Aristotle  as  a  "  proud  master."  He  was  the  teacher  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  and  by  his  able  writings  on  various  subjects  ex- 
erted, for  nearly  two  thousand  years,  a  prodigious  and  unrivalled  influ-  • 
ence  over  the  human  mind,  in  literature,  science,  and  religion.  He  was  the 
father  of  the  scholastic  philosophy  of  the  middle  ages,  which  Bacon 
Descartes  had  the  honor  of  overthrowing. 

1400.  Amanda:  The  lady  to  whom  Thomson  was  ardently  attached- 
Miss  Young,  of  whom  an  account  is  given  in  note  480,  "Spring." 

1407.  tihene  :  The  old  name  of  Richmond,  signifying,  in  Saxon,  Shinin 
or  Splendor.  It  is  a  village  nine  miles  from  London,  celebrated  for  it* 
beautiful  royal  gardens,  an  observatory,  and  park.  Here  was  a  palace 
in  which  died  Edward  III.,  Henry  YIL,  and  Queen  Elizabeth. 

1409.  Huge  Augusta  :  The  huge  city  of  London,  whose  Latin  name 
was  Augusta. 

1410.  Sister-hills:  Highgate  and  Hampstead. 

1411.  Harrow :  Harrow  is  situated  ten  miles  N.  W.  of  London,  on  one 
of  the  highest  hills  in  the  country.     This  village   commands  a  fine   pros- 
pect of  London. 


SUMMER.  167 

Majestic  Windsor  lifts  his  princely  brow. 

In  lovely  contrast  to  this  glorious  view 

Calmly  magnificent,  then  will  we  turn 

To  where  the  silver  Thames  first  rural  grows.  1415 

There  let  the  feasted  eye  unwearied  stray  ; 

Luxurious,  there,  rove  through  the  pendent  woods, 

That  nodding  hang  o'er  Harrington's  retreat ; 

And,  stooping  thence  to  Ham's  embowering  walks, 

Beneath  whose  shades,  in  spotless  peace  retired,  1420 

With  her,  the  pleasing  partner  of  his  heart, 

The  worthy  Queensberry  yet  laments  his  Gay, 

1412.  Windsor :  This  town  is  twenty-two  miles  west  of  London,  seat- 
ed on  an  eminence  on  the  bank  of  the  Thames.  "The  picturesque  beauty 
of  its  scenery,  its  noble  forest,  and  the  interesting  historical  associations 
connected  with  the  vicinity,  all  combine  to  confer  upon  it  peculiar  at- 
tractions :  but  it  owes  its  chief  celebrity  to  its  magnificent  castle,  the 
favorite  residence  of  a  long  line  of  kings.  This  castle  stands  upon  a 
high  hill,  which  rises  from  the  town  by  a  gentle  ascent ;  and  its  fine  ter- 
race, faced  with  a  rampart  of  free-stone,  1870  feet  in  length,  is  one  of  the 
noblest  walks  in  Europe,  with  respect  to  strength,  grandeur,  and  pros- 
pects. It  was  built  originally  by  William  the  Conqueror,  and  enlarged 
by  Henry  I.  Great  additions  have  been  made  to  it  by  subsequent  mon- 
archs.  From  that  part  of  the  castle  called  the  Round  Tower,  the  eye 
embraces  one  of  the  most  noble  and  extensive  prospects  in  England ;  for 
not  fewer  than  twelve  counties  may  be  discerned  with  the  naked  eye  ; 
while  the  landscape  presents  every  combination  of  picturesque  beauty." 
— BROOKE. 

1418.  Harrington:  The  Earl  of  Harrington,  appointed  Secretary  of 
State  in  1742. 

1422.  The  Duke  of  Queensbcrry  toolc  Gay,  the  humorous  poet  and 
dramatist,  into  his  house,  and  gave  him  a  home  during  the  latter  part  of 
his  life.  He  also,  with  the  Duchess,  "  the  pleasing  partner  of  his  heart,'* 
erected  a  monument  to  his  memory  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Gay  was 
born  in  1688,  and  died  in  1732.  He  was  a  popular,  but  immoral  writer — 
a  companion  of  Swift,  and  of  Pope.  The  latter  characterized  him  as 

Of  manners  gentle,  of  affections  mild ; 
In  wit  a  man,  simplicity  a  child. 

The  epitaph  in  Westminster  Abbey,  written  for  and  by  himself,  consists 
of  the  following  lines  : 

Life  is  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it ; 
I  thought  so  once,  and  now  I  know  it 


168  SUMMER. 

And  polish'd  Cornbury  woos  the  willing  Muse. 

Slow  let  us  trace  the  matchless  vale  of  Thames  ; 

Fair  winding* up  to  where  the  Muses  haunt  1425 

In  Twit'ham's  bowers,  and  for  their  Pope  implore 

The  healing  God  ;  to  royal  Hampton's  pile, 

"  Not  so,"  remarks  Dr.  Fisk  :  "  by  this  time  he  has  doubtless  discovered 
that  life  is  a  momentous  reality ;  short,  it  is  true,  but  pregnant  with  fu- 
ture and  eternal  consequences !  What  an  imposition  upon  the  living,  and 
what  an  insult  to  the  dead,  is  such  an  epitaph  !" 

1423.  Cornbury :  Probably  one  of  the  sons  of  Edward  Hyde,  earl  of 
Clarendon. 

1426.  Ticit' ham's  bowers:  The  village  of  Twickenham,  on  the  Thames, 
not  far  from  London,  was  selected  by  Alexander  Pope  as  his  residence, 
and  there,  in  a  beautiful  villa,  he  passed  some  twenty  years  of  the  latter 
part  of  his  life.  The  taste  with  which  Pope  laid  out  the  grounds  he  had 
leased  (five  acres  in  all)  produced,  it  is  said,  a  decided  effect  upon  Eng- 
lish landscape  gardening.  Previously  the  stiff,  formal  Dutch  style  had 
prevailed,  but  he  was  greatly  instrumental  in  bringing  it  into  disrepute. 
This  distinguished  poet  and  satirist,  author  of  the  "  Essay  on  Man,"  was 
born  in  1688,  and  died  in  1744.  His  villa  was  the  frequent  resort  of 
great  statesmen,  poets,  wits,  and  female  beauties,  attracted  thither  by 
his  wit,  his  fancy,  good  sense,  exquisite  taste,  and  other  accomplishments. 
He  had  a  feeble  constitution,  and  was  subjected  at  last  to  a  long  illness, 
to  which  reference  is  made  by  Thomson. 

It  is  the  more  natural  in  Thomson  to  refer  to  Pope,  as;  like  himself, 
Pope  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Lord  Lyttleton,  and  a  visitor  at  Hagley 
Park  and  Hall.  Hugh  Miller  informs  us  that  he  observed  there  a  beauti- 
ful spot  "  which  had  been  as  favorite  a  retreat  of  Pope  as  two  others  of 
Thomson  and  Shenstone,  and  in  which  an  elaborately  carved  urn  and  ped- 
estal records  Lyttleton's  estimate  of  his  powers  as  a  writer,  and  his  views 
as  a  moralist :  '  the  sweetest  and  most  elegant,'  says  the  inscription,  '  of 
English  poets ;  the  severest  chastiser  of  vice,  and  the  most  persuasive 
teacher  of  wisdom.'  The  little  crooked  man,  during  the  lust  thirteen 
years  of  his  life,  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Hagley ;  and  it  is  still  (1845)  a 
tradition  in  the  neighborhood,  that  in  the  hollow  in  which  his  urn  hns 
been  erected  he  particularly  delighted.  He  forgot  Gibber,  Sporuv,  and 
Lord  Fanny ;  Run*  up  with  much  glee  his  poor  shapeles-  lei:>,  thickened 
by  three  pairs  of  stocking  apiece,  and  far  from  thick,  after  all;  and  called 
the  place  ;  his  o\vn  groand.'  It  certainly  does  no  discredit  to  the  taste 
that  originated  the  gorgeous  though  somewhat  indistinct  descriptions  of 
'  Windsor  !•'• 

14-27.  Hampton's  pile  :  The  royal  palace  at  Hampton,  on  the  Thames, 
thirteen  miles  S.  W.  of  London.  This  palace  was  originally  built  by  Car- 


169 


SUMMER. 


To  Clermont's  terraced  height,  and  ! 

Where  in  the  sweetest  solitude,  embraced 

By  the  soft  windings  of  the  silent  Mole, 

From  courts  and  senates  Pelham  finds  repose. 

Enchanting  vale  !  beyond  whate'er  the  Muse 

Has  of  Achaia  or  Hesperia  sung  ! 

0  vale  of  bliss  !  0  softly  swelling  hills  ! 

On  which  the  power  of  cultivation  lies,  1435 

And  joys  to  see  the  wonders  of  his  toil. 

COMPLIMENTARY    ADDRESS    TO    BRITAIN. 


,  .    Heavens  !  what  a  goodly  prospect  spreads  around, 
Of  hills,  and  dales,  and  woods,  and  lawns;  and  spires, 


dinal  Woolsey,  and  presented  by  him  to  Henry  VIII. ;  but  was  nearly 
superseded  by  the  present  palace,  erected  by  William  IIL  The  gar- 
dens, parks,  and  buildings  occupy  a  space  four  miles  in  circumference. 

1480.  Mole :  A  small  river  in  the  county  of  Surrey,  and  entering  the 
Thames  not  far  from  London. 

1431.  Pelham:  Sir  Henry  Pelham,  who  succeeded  Sir  Robert  Wai- 
pole  as  Prime  Minister  of  Great  Britain  in  1742. 

1433.  Achaia  or  Hesperia  :  Greece  or  Italy,  though  in  a  limited  sense 
Achaia  was  a  province  of  Peloponnesus.  The  vale  referred  to  is  that 
of  the  Thames. 

1437-41.  Goodly  prospect,  <fcc, :  Thomson  is  supposed  to  be  speaking  of 
the  prospect  from  Hagley,  concerning  which  the  following  remarks  of 
Hugh  Miller  are  worthy  of  introduction  here  : — The  entire  prospect — one 
of  the  finest  in  England,  and  eminently  characteristic  of  what  is  best  in 
English  scenery — enabled  me  to  understand  what  I  here  used  to  deem  a 
peculiarity — in  some  measure  a  defect — in  the  landscapes  of  the  poet 
Thomson.  It  must  have  often  struck  the  Scotch  reader,  that  in  dealing 
with  very  extended  prospects,  he  rather  enumerates  than  describes. 
His  pictures  are  often  mere  catalogues,  in  which  single  words  stand  for 
classes  of  objects,  and  in  which  the  entire  poetry  seems  to  consist  in  an 
overmastering  sense  of  vast  extent  occupied  by  amazing  multiplicity.  I 
cannot  better  illustrate  my  meaning  than  by  his  introductory  description 
to  the  "  Panegyric  on  Great  Britain,"  1437-1441. 

Now  the  prospect  from  the  hill  at  Hagley  furnished  me  with  the  true 
explanation  of  this  enumerative  style.  Measured  along  the  horizon,  it 
must,  on  the  lowest  estimate,  be  at  least  fifty  miles  in  longitudinal  ex 

Q 


170  SUMMER, 

And  glittering  towns,  and  gilded  streams,  till  all 

The  stretching  landscape  into  smoke  decays  !  1440 

Happy  Britannia  !  where  the  queen  of  arts, 

Inspiring  vigor,  Liberty,  abroad 

Walks,  unconfined,  e'en  to  thy  farthest  cots, 

And  scatters  plenty  with  unsparing  hand. 

Rich  is  thy  soil,  and  merciful  thy  clime  ;  1445 

Thy  streams  unfailing  in  the  Summer's  drought ; 
I   Unmatch'd  thy  guardian  oaks  ;  thy  valleys  float 
x  With  golden  waves  ;  and  on  thy  mountains,  flocks 
Bleat  numberless  !  while,  roving  round  the  sides, 
Bellow  the  blackening  herds  in  lusty  droves.  1450 

Beneath,  thy  meadows  glow,  and  rise  unquell'd 
Against  the  mower's  scythe.     On  every  hand, 
Thy  villas  shine.     Thy  country  teems  with  wealth  ; 
And  property  assures  it  to  the  swain, 
Pleased  and  unwearied,  in  his  guarded  toil.  1455 

Full  are  thy  cities  with  the  sons  of  art ; 
And  trade  and  joy,  in  every  busy  street, 
Mingling  are  heard.     E'en  Drudgery  himself, 
As  at  the  car  he  sweats,  or  dusky  hews 


tent ;  measured  laterally,  from  the  spectator  forwards,  at  least  twenty. 
Some  of  the  Welsh  mountains  which  it  includes  are  nearly  thrice  that 
distance  ;  hut  then  they  are  mere  remote  peaks,  and  the  area  at  their 
bases  not  included  in  the  prospect.  The  real  area,  however,  must  rather 
exceed  than  full  short  of  a  thousand  square  miles :  the  fields  into  which 
it  is  laid  out  are  small,  scarcely  averaging  a  square  furlong  in  superficies; 
so  that  each  square  mile  must  contain  about  forty,  and  the  entire  land- 
scape— for  all  is  fertility — about  forty  thousand.  With  these  there  are 
commixed  innumerable  cottages,  manor-houses,  villages,  towns.  Here 
the  surface  is  dimpled  by  unreckoned  hollows  ;  there  fretted  by  uncount- 
ed mounds  :  all  is  amazing,  overpowering  multiplicity — a  multiplicity 
which  neither  the  pen  nor  the  pencil  can  adequately  express  ;  an  1  so  de- 
scription, in  even  the  hands  of  a  master,  sinks  into  mere  enumeration. 
The  picture  becomes  a  catalogue  ;  and  all  that  genius  can  accomplish  in 
the  circumstances  is  just  to  do  with  its  catalogue  what  Homer  did  with 
his — dip  it  in  poetry. 

1441.    Queen  of  arts :  Liberty,  in  the  next  line. 


SUMMER.  171 

The  palace  stone,  looks  gay.     Thy  crowded  ports,        1460 
Where  rising  masts  an  endless  prospect  yield, 
With  labor  burn,  and  echo  to  the  shouts 
Of  hurried  sailor,  as  he  hearty  waves 
His  last  adieu,  and,  loosening  every  sheet, 
Resigns  the  spreading  vessel  to  the  wind.  1465 

N       Bold,  firm,  and  graceful  are  thy  generous  youth, 
^  (^  By  hardship  sinew'd,  and  by  danger  fired, 

Scattering  the  nations  where  they  go  ;  and  first, 
Or  on  the  listed  plain,  or  stormy  seas. 

\  Mild  are  thy  glories,  too,  as  o'er  the  plans  1470 

Of  thriving  peace  thy  thoughtful  sires  preside  ; 
In  genius  and  substantial  learning  high  ; 
For  every  virtue,  every  worth,  renown'd  ; 
Sincere,  plain-hearted,  hospitable,  kind  ; 
Yet,  like  the  muttering  thunder,  when  provoked,          1475 
The  dread  of  tyrants,  and  the  sole  resource 
Of  those  that  under  grim  oppression  groan. 

BRITAIN'S  DISTINGUISHED  SONS.^ 

Thy  SONS  OF  GLORY  many  !     Alfred  thine, 
In  whom  the  splendor  of  heroic  war, 


1478.  Tliy  Sons  of  Glory :  The  long  paragraph  here  commencing  may 
be  regarded  as  a  splendid  Portrait  Gallery,  displaying  to  great  advantage 
the  taste,  and  genius,  and  historical  information  of  the  poet.  It  is  worthy 
of  close  study  and  attention.  The  notes  upon  this  paragraph  are  intend- 
ed to  throw  a  stronger  light  upon  the  canvas,  so  thai  the  subjects  may 
be  better  understood,  and  be  contemplated  with  gi  eater  interest  and 
profit. 

1478.  Alfred,  son  of  Ethelwolf,  ascended  the  Anglo-Saxon  throne  ot 
England  at  twenty  years  of  age,  was  obliged  to  maintain  it  by  prodigies 
of  valor  against  several  hostile  incursions  of  the  Danes.  Having  conquer- 
ed these,  he  persuaded  the  remainder  of  the  Danish  army  to  embrace 
Cliristianity,  and  gave  them  liberty  to  occupy  Northumberland  anxl  East 
Anglia.  He  was  a  prince  of  great  wisdom  as  well  as  valor.  He  estab- 
lished civil  and  military  institutions,  formed  the  mukU-'o;.'  his  rude  peo- 


172  SUMMER. 

And  more  heroic  peace,  when  govern'd  well,  148C 

Combine  ;  whose  hallow'd  name  the  virtues  saint, 
And  his  own  Muses  love  ;  the  best  of  kings  ! 


pie  to  industry  and  justice.  He  is  regarded  as  the  creator  of  the  English 
navy,  as  well  as  the  establisher  of  the  monarchy,  and  in  various  ways 
provided,  in  troublous  times,  for  the  security  of  his  kingdom.  He  was, 
moreover,  the  father  of  English  law  and  English  literature.  He  framed 
a  body  of  laws  which,  though  now  lost,  served  long  as  the  basis  of  Eng- 
lish jurisprudence,  and  was  the  origin  of  the  English  Common  Law. 
Though  rigorous  in  the  administration  of  justice,  he  entertained  a  pro- 
found regard  for  the  liberty  and  general  welfare  of  his  subjects.  In  his 
will  he  introduced  this  remarkable  declaration — "  It  is  just  that  the  Eng- 
lish should  ever  remain  free  as  their  own  thoughts." 

He  gave  great  encouragement  to  learning.  He  invited  to  England 
some  of  the  most  celebrated  scholars  from  all  parts  of  Europe :  every- 
where he  established  schools  for  the  education  of  the  ignorant ;  he  found- 
ed, or  greatly  improved,  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  endowed  it  with 
many  privileges  and  immunities ;  he  enjoined  by  law  all  freeholders, 
possessed  of  a  specified  amount  of  land,  to  send  their  children  to 
school ;  and  he  gave  preferment,  either  in  Church  or  State,  to  such  only 
as  had  made  some  proficiency  in  science. 

He  was  a  writer  himself.  He  prepared  and  circulated  a  number  of 
poems,  fables,  and  tales,  to  lead  the  ignorant  to  the  pursuit  of  knowl- 
edge. He  translated  from  the  Greek  the  Fables  of  yEsop;  and  fur- 
nished Saxon  translations  of  the  histories  of  Orosius  and  Bede,  and  of 
the  Constitution  of  Philosophy  by  Boethius.  He  turned  his  attention 
also  to  the  encouragement  of  the  mechanical  arts,  granting  liberal  re- 
wards to  inventors  and  improvers  of  useful  and  ingenious  arts.  He  im- 
proved the  architecture  of  the  kingdom,  and  devoted  himself  to  the 
extension  of  commerce. 

"  This  extraordinary  man,  who  is  justly  considered,  both  by  natives 
and  foreigners,  as  the  greatest  prince  after  Charlemagne  that  Europe 
saw  for  several  ages,  and  as  one  of  the  wisest  and  best  that  ever  adorned 
the  annals  of  any  nation,  died  in  the  year  901,  in  the  vigor  of  his  age 
and  full  strength  of  his  faculties,  after  a  life  of  fifty-three  years,  and  a 
glorious  reign  of  twenty-nine  years  and  a  half.  His  merit,  both  in  public 
and  private  life,  may  be  set  in  opposition  to  that  of  any  sovereign  or 
citizen  in  ancient  or  modern  times.  He  seems,  indeed,  as  an  elegant 
and  profound  historian  (Hume)  has  observed,  to  be  the  complete  model 
of  that  perfect  character  which,  under  the  denomination  of  a  sage,  or 
truly  wise  man,  philosophers  have  been  so  fond  of  delineating,  without 
the  hopes  of  ever  seeing  it  realized." — Russell's  Modern  Europe,  voL  L, 
77-82, 


SUMMER.  173 

With  him  thy  Edwards  and  thy  Henries  shine, 

Names  dear  to  fame  ;  the  first,  who  deep  impressed 

On  haughty  Gaul  the  terror  of  thy  arms,  1485 

That  awes  her  genius  still.     In  statesmen  thou, 

And  patriots,  fertile.     Thine  a  steady  More, 

Who,  with  a  generous  though  mistaken  zeal, 

Withstood  a  brutal  tyrant's  useful  rage, 

Like  Cato  firm,  like  Aristides  just,  1490 

Like  rigid  Cincinnatus  nobly  poor ; 

1483.  There  were  three  Edwards  of  the  Saxon  line,  five  of  the  Plan- 
tagenet,  and  one  of  the  Tudor.  There  were  eight  Henries,  belonging  to 
three  different  lines  of  kings. 

1485.  Gaul :  France.  Edward  III.  was  the  first,  and  the  principal  of 
the  Edwards  in  the  invasion  of  France. 

1487.  More :  Sir  Thomas  More,  Chancellor  of  England  under  Henry 
VIII.  Thomson  refers  to  his  opposition,  as  an  adherent  of  the  Pope, 
to  the  claims  of  that  imperious  monarch  to  be  acknowledged  as  the  only 
supreme  Head  of  the  Church  of  England  upon  earth.  For  refusing  to 
acknowledge  the  king's  ecclesiastical  supremacy,  More  was  condemned  to 
die  on  the  scaffold,  and  met  his  sentence  with  great  fortitude,  in  15o5. 
He  opposed  Henry,  also,  in  regard  to  the  divorce  of  Queen  Catharine. 
He  is  represented  as  a  man  of  great  learning,  integrity,  and  capacity. 

1490.  We  noticed  Cato  in  954,  one  of  whose  most  conspicuous  charac 
teristics  was  firmness ;  as  those  of  Aristides  were  justice  and  integrity. 
Notwithstanding  his  brilliant  public  services,  through  the  intrigues  of  the 
jealous  Themistocles,  a  decree  of  banishment  from  Greece  was  procured 
from  the  inconstant  people.     While  they  were  writing  upon  shells  their 
votes  to  this  effect,  an  illiterate  Athenian,  riot  acquainted  with  Aristides, 
requested  the  latter  to  write  upon  his  shell  the  name  of  Aristides.     Be- 
ing asked  what  harm  Aristides  had  done  him,  he  replied  :  He  has  done 
me  no  harm  ;  but  I  am  tired  of  hearing  him  called  the  Just.     Aristides, 
on  being  recalled,  was  intrusted  with  the  management  of  the  public  rev- 
enues, and  though  he  had  an  opportunity  of  enriching  himself,  was  nev- 
ertheless so  just  and  honest,  that  he  died  in  absolute  poverty,  not  leaving 
enough  to  pay  his   funeral  expenses,  or  to  furnish  marriage  gifts  to  his 
two  daughters.     An  anecdote  which  reflects  great  lustre  on  his  charactei 
as  an  upright  judge,  may  be  added.     The  accuser,  with  a  view  to  preju 
dice  him  against  the  defendant,  was  proceeding  to  tell  what  injuries  the 
defendant  had  done   to  Aristides  ;  but  was  prevented  by  the   impartial 
judge,  who  exclaimed — "  Tell  me  of  the  wrongs  which  he  has  done  to 
you  ;  for  I  sit  here  to  administer  justice  to  you,  not  to  myself." 

1491.  L.  Quintius  Cincinnatus,  a  Roman  patrician  farmer,  who  was 


174:  SUMMER. 

A  dauntless  soul  erect,  who  smiled  on  death. 

Frugal  and  Avise,  a  Walsingham  is  thine  ; 

A  Drake,  who  made  thee  mistress  of  the  deep, 

And  bore  thy  name  in  thunder  round  the  world.  1495 

Then  flamed  thy  spirit  high  :  but  who  can  speak 

The  numerous  worthies  of  the  Maiden  Reign  ? 

In  Raleigh  mark  their  every  glory  mix'd  ; 

Raleigh,  the  scourge  of  Spain  !  whose  breast  with  all    / 

twice  honored  with  the  supreme  office  of  Dictator  at  Rome,  returning  in 
each  case  to  the  humble  pursuit  of  agriculture,  to  his  chosen  work  of 
ploughing  his  own  fields. 

1493.  Wfihingliain  :  Sir   Francis  Walsingham,  Secretary  of  State  un- 
der Elizabeth — an  able  statesman   and   firm  Protestant.     He  displayed 
great  penetration   and  address  in  making  discovery  of  foreign   intrigues 
against  the  queen's  government.     He   acquired  honor  as  an  ambassador, 
and  yet  died  so  poor,  in  his  ninetieth  year,  that  lie  was  privately  buried 
by  night  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  without  any  funeral  ceremony. 

1494.  Drake:  Sir  Francis  Drake,  an   eminent   English  navigator  and 
naval  hero,  who,  as  such,  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  rendered  to  his  coun- 
try signal  service.     He  died  in  1596. 

1498.  Raleigh  :  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  another  ornament  of  the  "  Maiden 
Reign"' — the  reign  of  Elizabeth — born  in  1552.  In  1578  he  engaged  in 
an  expedition  the  purpose  of  which  was  to  discover  and  colonize  some 
part  of  North  America.  He  did  not  succeed — and  yet  in  1583  he  sailed 
for  Newfoundland,  and  with  no  better  results ;  but  subsequently  he  dis- 
covered Wigandacoa,  which,  in  honor  of  his  virgin  queen,  was  called 
Virginia,  and  in  two  successive  voyages  established  colonies  there.  He 
has  the  honor,  or  fche  dishonor,  of  first  introducing  tobacco  into  England, 
and  rendering  it  an  article  of  commerce.  He  had  an  important  agency 
in  destroying  the  famous  Spanish  Armada,  in  1588.  On  the  death  of  the 
queen  and  the  accession  of  James,  he  was  condemned  for  high  treason, 
on  altogether  inadequate  grounds.  He  was  reprieved,  however,  and 
confined  for  many  years  in  the  Tower  at  London,  when  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  preparation  of  his  History  of  the  World,  the  first  volume  of 
which  appeared  in  1614.  Two  years  after  this  he  was  released,  and 
served  his  country  in  an  expedition  to  explore  the  gold  mines  of  Guiana ; 
but  unjust  complaints  of  his  proceedings  there  being  reported  by  the 
Spanish  ambassador  to  James,  that  weak  and  arbitrary  monarch  ordered 
him  to  be  seized,  and  to  be  beheaded  on  his  former  accusation,  in  October, 
1618.  He  was  worthy  of  a  better  fate  than  to  satiate  the  vengeance  of 
the  Spanish,  who  were  indignant  at  the  success  of  his  arms.  The  reign 
of  James  is  justly  denominated  "  a  coward  reign."  Thomson  has  pre- 


SUMMEK.  175 

The  sage,  the  patriot,  and  the  hero  burn'd.  1500 

Nor  sunk  his  vigor,  when  a  coward  reign 

The  warrior  fetter'd,  and  at  last  resign'd, 

To  glut  the  vengeance  of  a  vanquish 'd  foe.  - 

Then,  active  still  and  unrestrain'd,  his  mind 

Explored  the  vast  extent  of  ages  past,  1505 

And  with  his  prison-hours  enrich'd  the  world ; 

Yet  found  no  times,  in  all  the  long  research, 

So  glorious  or  so  base,  as  those  he  proved, 

In  which  he  conquered,  and  in  which  he  bled. 

Nor  can  the  Muse  the  gallant  Sidney  pass,  1510 

eented  an  accurate  and  skilful  portrait  of  this  energetic  and  accomplished 
man. 

1510  Sidney :  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  an  able  statesman  in  the  reign  of  Eliz- 
abeth, by  whom  he  was  much  honored.  He  was  a  brave  warrior,  and  died 
in  1587  of  a  wound  which  he  received  in  the  battle  of  Zutphen,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Issel,  in  Guelderland.  He  is  the  author  of  a  celebrated  ro- 
mance entitled  Arcadia,  and  of  a  Defence  of  Poetry,  also  of  several  poems. 
"  His  bravery  and  chivalrous  magnanimity  ;  his  grace  and  polish  of  man- 
ner ;  the  purity  of  his  morals ;  his  learning  and  refinement  of  taste,  had 
procured  for  him  love  and  esteem  wherever  he  was  known.  By  the  di- 
rection of  Elizabeth  his  remains  were  conveyed  to  London,  and  honored 
with  a  public  funeral  in  the  cathedral  of  St.  Paul's." 

An  old  writer  thus  eulogizes  his  varied  merit : — "  Gentle  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney,  thou  knewest  what  belonged  to  a  scholar :  thou  knewest  what  pains, 
what  toil,  what  travel,  conduct  to  perfection  ;  well  couldst  thou  give  ev- 
ery virtue  his  encouragement,  every  art  his  due,  every  writer  his  desert, 
'cause  none  more  virtuous,  witty,  or  learned  than  thyself." 

Another  describes  his  whole  life  as  "  poetry  put  into  action."  The  North 
American  Review  (1832)  contains  an  interesting  article,  in  which  it  is 
stated  that,  when  Sidney  was  retiring  from  the  field  of  battle  fatally 
wounded,  an  incident  occurred,  which  well  illustrates  his  chivalrous  spirit 
and  that  goodness  of  heart  which  gained  him  the  appellation  of  the  "  Gen- 
tle Sir  Philip  Sidney,"  the  circumstance  having  been  made  the  subject  of 
an  historical  painting  by  West.  It  is  thus  related  by  Lord  Brooke  : 

The  horse  he  rode  upon  was  rather  furiously  choleric  than  bravely 
proud,  and  so  forced  him  to  forsake  the  field  but  not  his  back,  as  the  no- 
blest and  fittest  bier  to  carry  a  martial  commander  to  his  grave.  In 
which  sad  progress,  passing  along  by  the  rest  of  the  army  where  his  uncle 
the  General  was,  and  being  thirsty  with  excess  of  bleeding,  he  called  for 
drink,  which  was  presently  brought  him  ;  but  as  he  was  putting  the  bot- 


J 


176  SUMMER. 

The  plume  of  war  !  with  early  laurels  crown'd, 
The  lover's  myrtle,  and  the  poet's  bay. 
A  Hampden  too  is  thine,  illustrious  land, 
Wise,  strenuous,  firm,  of  unsubmitting  soul, 
Who  stemm'd  the  torrent  of  a  downward  age,  1515 

i  To  slavery  prone,  and  bade  thee  rise  again, 
In  all  thy  native  pomp  of  freedom  bold. 
Bright,  at  his  call,  thy  age  of  men  effulged, 
Of  men  on  whom  late  time  a  kindling  eye 
Shall  turn,  and  tyrants  tremble  while  they  read.  1520 

Bring  every  sweetest  flower,  and  let  me  strew 


tie  to  his  mouth,  he  saw  a  poor  soldier  carried  along,  who  had  eaten  his 
last  at  the  same  feast,  ghastly  casting  up  his  eyes  at  the  bottle  ;  which 
Sir  Philip  perceiving,  took  it  from  his  head  before  he  drank,  and  deliver- 
ed it  to  the  poor  man  with  these  words,  "Thy  necessity  is  yet  greater 
than  mine." 

1513.  Hampden:  John  Hampden,  the  distinguished  patriot,  who  op- 
posed the  arbitrary  taxation  of  Charles  L,  and  became  the  leader  of  the 
popular  party  in  the  House  of  Commons  against  the  king.  When  the 
civil  wars  commenced,  he  took  the  field,  and  after  a  valorous  career  was 
cut  down  when  engaged  in  battle  against  Prince  Rupert,  June,  1643. 

His  history  (says  Macaulay),  more  particularly  from  the  beginning  of 
the  year  1640  to  his  death,  is  the  history  of  England.  A  great  and  terri- 
ble crisis  had  then  come.  A  direct  attack  was  made  by  an  arbitrary  gov- 
ernment on  a  sacred  right  of  Englishmen,  on  a  right  which  was  a  chief 
security  for  all  their  other  rights.  The  nation  looked  round  for  a  defender. 
Calmly  and  unostentatiously  the  plain  Buckinghamshire  Esquire  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  his  countrymen,  and  right  before  the  face  and 
across  the  path  of  tyranny.  The  times  grew  darker  and  more  troubled. 
Public  service,  perilous,  arduous,  delicate,  was  required  ;  and  to  every 
service  the  intellect  and  the  courage  of  this  wonderful  man  were  found 
fully  equal.  He  became  a  debater  of  the  first  order,  a  most  dexterous 
manager  of  the  House  of  Commons,  a  negotiator,  a  soldier.  He  governed 
a  fierce  and  turbulent  assembly,  abounding  in  able  men,  as  easily  as  he 
had  governed  his  family.  He  showed  himself  as  competent  to  direct  a 
campaign  as  to  conduct  the  business  of  the  petty  sessions.  We  can 
scarcelv  express  the  admiration  which  we  feel  for  a  mind  so  great,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  so  healthful  and  so  well  proportioned  ;  so  willingly 
contracting  itself  to  the  humblest  duties;  so  easily  expanding  itself  to  the 
highest ;  so  contented  in  repose  ;  so  powerful  in  action. 


led;   / 

!,  / 


SUMMEB.  177 

The  grave  where  Russel  lies ;  whose  temper'd  blood, 

With  calmest  cheerfulness  for  thee  resign'd, 

Stain'd  the  sad  annals  of  a  giddy  reign, 

Aiming  at  lawless  power,  though  meanly  sunk  1525 

In  loose,  inglorious  luxury.     With  him 

His  friend,  the  British  Cassius,  fearless  bled  ; 

Of  high  determined  spirit,  roughly  brave. 

By  ancient  learning  to  th'  enlighten'd  love 

Of  ancient  freedom  warm'd.     Fair  thy  renown  1530 

In  awful  sages  and  in  noble  bards  ; 

Soon  as  the  light  of  dawning  science  spread 

Her  orient  ray,  and  waked  the  Muses'  song. 

Thine  is  a  Bacon  ;  hapless  in  his  choice, 

1522.  Russell :  Lord  William  Russell,  who  had  a  seat  in  the  House  of 
Commons  under  Charles  II.,  opposed  the  succession  of  the  Duke  of  York 
to  the  throne,  and  was  charged  with  treasonable  conduct  as  an  associate 
of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  and  beheaded  in  1683.  The  "giddy  reign"  of 
Charles  II.  is  well  described  by  Thomson. 

1527.  British  Cassius:  It  is  supposed  that  under  this  title  is  intended 
Algernon  Sidney.  In  the  civil  war  he  espoused  the  side  of  the  Parliament 
against  Charles  I.,  and  was  colonel  in  the  army.  Making  the  Roman  Bru- 
tus his  model,  and  being  in  favor  of  a  pure  democracy,  he  opposed  the 
course  of  Cromwell.  Being  absent  from  England  at  the  restoration  of 
Charles  II.,  he  was  promised  a  pardon  on  his  return.  By  the  infamous 
Judge  Jeffreys  he  was  tried  on  the  charge  of  being  implicated  in  the 
Rye-house  plot,  and  found  guilty,  and  though  he  complained  to  the  king 
of  an  unfair  trial,  was  beheaded  Dec.  7,  1688.  He  was  an  able  writer,  a 
man  of  high  spirit,  and  of  strong  republican  tendencies.  His  Discourses 
on  Government  possess  great  merit.  From  his  daring  spirit,  connected 
with  his  opposition  to  tyranny  and  usurpation,  our  author  styles  him  the 
British  Cassius — Cassius  having  been  the  impetuous  foe  of  Julius  Caesar 
in  the  latter  part  of  his  ambitious  career. 

1534.  Bacon  :  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  who  under  Elizabeth  and  James  arose 
from  one  post  of  distinction  to  another  until  he  was  appointed  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. As  a  philosopher  he  has  rendered  himself  immortal  by  marking 
out  in  his  Novum  Organum  the  true  method  of  scientific  research,  and 
by  exploding  those  that  had  been  pursued  in  previous  ages.  As  a  man, 
a  courtier,  and  a  politician,  he  rendered  himself  despicable  by  his  slavish 
obsequiousness  to  the  sovereign,  and  by  his  confessed  guilt  in  the  matter 
of  gross  bribery  and  corruption  as  a  judge.  The  sentence  to  an  enorinoua 


178  SUMMER. 

Unfit  to  stand  the  civil  storm  of  state,  1535 

And  through  the  smooth  barbarity  of  courts, 

With  firm  but  pliant  virtue,  forward  still 

To  urge  his  course.     Him  for  the  studious  shade 

Kind  Nature  form'd,  deep,  comprehensive,  clear, 

Exact,  and  elegant ;  in  one  rich  soul,  V  ^S        1540 

Plato,  the  Stagyrite,  and  Tully  join'd.  /  £*Y*^~ 

»Jiaer  and  indefinite  imprisonment,  was,  however,  subsequently  remitted, 
uud  ne  onssed  the  remainder  of  his  da}Ts  in  scientific  pursuits — his  life 
closing  in  1626.  He  is  regarded  as  the  father  of  experimental  science. 
AS  lias  been  observed  by  Chambers,  "  he  turned  the  attention  of  philos- 
ophers from  speculations  and  disputes  upon  questions  remote  from  use, 
ana  fixed  it  upon  inquiries  '  productive  of  works  for  the  benefit  of  the 
life  ot  man.'  The  Aristotelian  philosophy  was  barren  :  the  object  of  Ba- 
con was  *  the  amplification  of  the  power  and  kingdom  of  mankind  over 
the  worid' — '  the  enlargement  of  the  bounds  of  human  empire  to  the  ef- 
fecting all  things  possible' — the  augmentation,  by  means  of  science,  of 
the  sum  ol  human  happiness,  and  the  alleviation  of  human  suffering. 
Bacon,  like  Sidney,  was  a  '  warbler  of  poetic  prose.'  Xo  EnglL-h  writer 
has  surpassed  him  in  fervor  and  brilliancy  of  style,  in  force  of  expression, 
or  in  richness  ana  significance  of  imagery.  He  has  treated  of  philosophy 
with  all  the  splenaor,  yet  none  of  the  vagueness  of  poetry."  The  best 
account  of  his  lire  ana  philosophy,  perhaps,  is  to  be  found  in  Macaulay's 
Miscellanies,  to  whicn  i  refer,  instead  of  lengthening  this  note  by  quota- 
tions. 

1541  Plato,  the  Starjyritc,  and  Tulh/  joind :  In  Bacon  were  united  the 
distinguishing  endowments  ot  those  great  men.  Like  Plato,  he  had  a 
soaring  genius,  a  philosophical  and  poetic  spirit :  he  united  a  lively  fancy 
to  great  acuteness  of  intellect.  Cicero  says  of  Plato's  diction,  that  if 
Jupiter  were  to  speak  in  the  Greek  tongue  he  would  use  the  language 
of  Plato  ;  and  Aristotle  regards  it  as  a  species  of  diction  intermediate 
between  verse  and  prose.  He  excels  also  in  discussing  abstract  subjects, 
being  generally  clear,  simple,  and  harmonious. 

The  Stagyiitet  or  Aristotle,  who  was  born  at  Stagyra,  was  distinguished 
for  habits  of  research  into  all  classes  of  subjects,  physical,  moral,  and  in- 
tellectual, and  for  his  prodigious  acquisitions  and  learned  treatises.  More 
than  any  previous  writer  lie  enlarged  the  limits  of  philosophical  inquiry. 
He  made  Logic  the  Organon,  or  instrument  for  obtaining  general  knowl- 
edge, or  rather  of  conducting  an  argumentation.  Intellect  in  him  was  the 
leading  faculty.  While  he  entitled  his  works  Organon,  Bacon  denomi- 
nated his  own  the  Xovuni  Organum,  or  new  instrument  of  Truth. 

He  resembled  Tally,  or  Cicero,  in  his  great  powers  as  an  orator  and  as 


yf 


SUMMER.  179 

The  great  deliverer  he  !  who  from  the  gloom 

Of  cloister'd  monks,  and  jargon-teaching  schools, 

Led  forth  the  true  Philosophy,  there  long 

Held  in  the  magic  chain  of  words  and  forms,  1545 

And  definitions  void  :  he  led  her  forth, 

Daughter  of  Heaven  !  that,  slow  ascending  still, 

Investigating  sure  the  cfoain  of  things, 

With  radiant  finger  points  to  heaven  again. 

The  generous  Ashley  thine,  the  friend  of  man  ;  1550 

Who  scann'd  his  nature  with  a  brother's  eye, 

His  weakness  prompt  to  shade,  to  raise  his  aim, 

To  touch  the  finer  movements  of  the  mind, 

And  with  the  moral  beauty  charm  the  heart. 

Why  need  I  name  thy  Boyle,  whose  pious  search,         1555 

Amid  the  dark  recesses  of  his  works, 


a  pleader,  to  which,  as  in  the  case  of  Cicero,  he  was  indebted  for  his  rapid 
advancement  to  the  highest  dignities  of  the  state.  Like  him,  also,  ho 
lacked  firmness  and  decision ;  he  was  cringing  and  servile  in  his  adulation 
of  men  in  power.  He  chose  the  interests  of  the  court  rather  than  those 
of  the  people  "  in  the  civil  storm  of  state,"  and  thus  was  "  hapless  in  his 
choice."  He  was  greedy  of  wealth  and  of  distinction,  and  mean  in  his 
modes  of  seeking  both. 

1550  Ashley :  Robert  Ashley  was  a  lawyer  and  a  writer  of  some  dis- 
tinction, a  collector  of  books  on  the  continent,  and  a  great  benefactor  of 
the  society  to  which  he  belonged.  He  died  in  1641. 

It  is  possible  that  not  the  above  person,  but  Anthony  Ashley  Cooper, 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  and  author  of  the  '''Characteristics,"  was  designated 
by  Thomson.  He  was  a  fine  scholar,  an  accomplished  gentleman,  and  an 
eloquent  writer,  though  tinctured  with  skeptical  opinions.  He  died  in 
1713. 

1555.  Robert  Boyle  stands  deservedly  high  in  the  annals  of  British  sci- 
ence, philanthropy,  and  religion.  He  was  distinguished  as  an  experimen- 
tal philosopher  and  chemist,  invented  the  air-pump,  and  was  a  prominent 
member  of  the  Royal  Society  of  London  for  the  Improvement  of  Natural 
Knowledge,  incorporated  by  Charles  II.  in  1662.  Of  this  society  he  was 
in  vain  urged  to  accept  the  presidency.  He  was  an  active,  zealous  Chris- 
tian, and  promoter  of  Christianity,  both  by  his  writings  and  with  his 
money.  His  annual  charities  amounted  to  about  $5000.  His  works  em- 
brace 5  vols.  folio.  He  died  in  169L 


180  SUMMER. 

The  great  Creator  sought  ?     And  why  thy  Locke, 
Who  made  the  whole  internal  world  his  own  ? 
Let  Newton,  pure  intelligence,  whom  GOD 
To  mortals  lent,  to  trace  his  boundless  works  1560 

From  laws  sublimely  simple,  speak  thy  fame 
In  all  philosophy.     For  lofty  sense, 
Creative  fancy,  and  inspection  keen, 
Through  the  deep  windings  of  the  human  heart, 
/    Is  not  wild  Shakspeare  thine  and  Nature's  boast?         1565 

1557.  John  Locke  has  a  world-wide  renown  from  his  great  treatise  on 
the  Human  Understanding,  still  used  as  a  text  book  in  some  of  the  first 
institutions  of  learning.  Its  composition  occupied  nine  years.  He  wrote 
several  other  treatises,  which  are  highly  esteemed.  In  1704  he  died. 

1559.  Sir  Isaac  Newton^  one  of  the  most  illustrious  names  adorning  any 
country  or  age  ;  born  in  1642.  Mathematics  and  Astronomy  was  the  field 
he  most  cultivated,  and  with  unexampled  success.  In  1669  he  succeeded 
Dr.  Barrow  in  the  mathematical  chair  at  Cambridge,  where  he  delivered 
lectures  on  the  discoveries  he  had  made  in  Optics  and  on  his  Theory  of 
Light  and  Color.  He  was  elected  President  of  the  Royal  Society  in 
1703,  and  for  twenty-five  years  held  that  honorable  position — even  to  his 
death.  The  Bible  was  his  daily  study  ;  and  upon  the  prophetical  writ- 
ings he  published  an  excellent  commentary.  His  great  scientific  treatise 
he  entitled  "  Philosophise  Naturalis  Principia  Mathematical  As  a  man 
he  possessed  the  most  estimable  traits,  and  received  during  his  public 
life  the  greatest  consideration  from  Queen  Anne,  George  L,  and  the  men 
of  science  and  refinement  in  those  reigns. 

1565.  William  Shakspeare,  the  gre.it  poet  of  human  nature,  and  the 
unrivalled  dramatist,  born  in  Stratford-on-Avon  in  1564,  and  lived  till 
1616.  The  plots  of  his  dramas  were  chiefly  borrowed  from  novels  and 
romances,  from  legendary  stories, 'or  from  older  plays.  In  preparing  those 
plays  in  which  Roman  subjects  are  prominent,  lie  used  North's  translation 
of  Plutarch  ;  while  Holinshed's  Chronicle  furnished  him  the  incidents  for 
his  English  historical  dramas. 

Hazlitt  draws  his  portrait  with  the  hand  of  a  master.  There  is  room 
but  for  a  small  part  of  it.  He  "  had  a  mind  reflecting  ages  past"  and 
present ;  all  the  people  that  ever  lived  are  there.  There  was  no  respect 
of  persons  with  him.  His  genius  shone  equally  on  the  evil  and  on  the 
good,  on  the  wise  and  on  the  foolish,  the  monarch  and  the  beggar  :  "  All 
corners"  of  the  earth,  kings,  queens,  and  states,  maids,  matrons,  nay,  the 
secrets  of  the  grave,"  are  hardly  hid  from  his  searching  glance.  He 
turned  the  globe  round  for  his  amusement,  and  surveyed  the  generations 
of  men,  and  the  individuals  as  they  passed,  with  their  different  concerns, 


SUMMER.  181 

Is  not  each  great,  each  amiable  Muse 

Of  classic  ao-es  in  thy  Milton  met  ?\ 
.  .  \ 

A  genius  universal  as  his  theme,      \ 

Astonishing  as  chaos,  as  the  bloom  I 

passions,  follies,  vices,  virtues,  actions,  and  motives — as  well  those  that 
they  knew,  as  those  which  they  did  not  know  or  acknowledge  to  them- 
selves. Airy  beings  united  at  his  call,  and  came  at  his  bidding.  The 
world  of  spirits  lay  open  to  him,  like  the  world  of  real  men  and  women  ; 
and  there  is  the  same  truth  in  his  delineations  of  the  one  as  of  the  other ; 
for  if  the  preternatural  characters  he  describes  could  be  supposed  to  ex- 
ist, they  would  speak  and  feel  and  act  as  he  makes  them.  He  had  only 
to  think  of  any  thing  in  order  to  become  that  thing,  with  all  the  circum- 
stances belonging  to  it.  When  he  conceived  of  a  character,  whether  real 
or  imaginary,  he  not  only  entered  into  all  its  thoughts,  but  seemed  in- 
stantly to  be  surrounded  with  all  the  same  objects,  the  same  local  out- 
ward and  unforeseen  accidents  which  would  occur  in  reality.  The  post 
may  be  said,  for  the  time,  to  identify  himself  with  the  character  he  wishes 
to  represent,  and  to  pass  from  one  to  another,  like  the  same  soul  success- 
ively animating  different  bodies.  His  plays  are  properly  expressions  of 
the  passions,  not  descriptions  of  them.  Shakspeare's  imagination  is  of 
the  same  plastic  kind  as  his  conception  of  character  or  passion.  He  has 
also  a  magic  power  over  words  :  they  come  winged  at  his  bidding ;  and 
seem  to  know  their  places.  His  epithets  and  single  phrases  are  like 
sparkles,  thrown  off  from  an  imagination  fired  by  the  whirling  rapidity' 
of  its  own  motion.  His  language  in  the  impassioned  parts  translates 
thoughts  into  visible  images.  His  versification  is  no  less  powerful,  sweet, 
and  varied.  He  had  an  equal  genius  for  tragedy  and  comedy. 

Upon  the  faults  of  Shakspeare  as  an  author,  it  has  been  observed,  that 
some  of  his  plays  are  hastily  and  ill-constructed  as  to  plot ;  that  his 
proneness  to  quibble  and  play  with  words  is  brought  forward  in  scenes 
where  this  peculiarity  constitutes  a  positive  defect  ;  that  he  is  sometimes 
indelicate  where  indelicacy  is  least  pardonable,  and  where  it  jars  most 
painfully  with  the  associations  of  the  scene,  and  that  his  style  is  occa- 
sionally stiff,  tinged,  and  obscure,  chiefly  because  it  is  at  once  highly  fig- 
urative and  condensed  in  expression. 

1567.  John  Milton,  the  great  classical  poet  of  England,  whose  immortal 
poems  deserve  a  place  with  those  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  was  born  in  1608, 
and  died  in  1674.  He  was  an  elegant  Latin  scholar,  and  wrote  fiuentlv 
that  language,  and  was  appointed  Latin  Secretary  to  the  council  of  state 
He  was  a  stanch  advocate  of  republican  principles  and  of  CroniAvell ;  and 
therefore  at  the  Restoration  of  the  Stuarts  he  was  compelled  to  conceal 
himself  to  escape  from  political  penalties.  However,  through  the  inter- 
cession of  friends,  and  in  view  of  his  great  learning  and  consummate  abil- 


182  SUMMER. 

Of  blowing  Eden  fair,  as  heaven  sublime!  1570 

f    Nor  shall  my  verse  that  elder  bard  forget, 
The  gentle  Spenser,  Fancy *s  pleasing  son  N 
Who,  like  a  copious  river  pour'd  his  song  / 
O'er  all  the  mazes  of  enchanted  ground  :   ' 
Nor  thee,  his  ancient  master,  laughing  sage,  1575 


ities,  he  was  pardoned  by  Charles  IT.,  who  also  offered  to  him  the  foreign 
or  Latin  secretaryship,  but  he  declined  it  for  the  purpose  of  devoting  him- 
self to  the  completion  of  his  great  Poem — the  Paradise  Lost,  and  its  se- 
quel— Paradise  Regained.  His  prose  writings,  which  are  numerous,  dis- 
play great  learning,  and  uncommon  vigor  of  thought  and  of  style.  Of 
his  poetic  qualifications  it  would  be  difficult  to  give  a  more  condensed 
and  yet  comprehensive  account  than  Thomson  has  placed  before  us — the 
substance  of  which  is,  that  the  poetry  of  Milton  combines  the  excellencies 
of  the  be-4  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  bards. 

I  would  add,  from  Hazlitt,  that  Milton  adorns  and  dignifies  his  subject 
to  the  utmost :  he  surrounds  it  with  every  possible  association  of  beauty 
or  grandeur,  whether  moral,  intellectual,  or  physical.  He  refines  on  his 
descriptions  of  beauty,  till  the  sense  aches  at  them ;  and  raises  his  images 
of  terror  to  a  gigantic  elevation  that  "  makes  Ossa  like  a  wart."  Milton 
has  borrowed  more  than  any  other  writer,  and  exhausted  every  source  of 
imitation,  sacred  or  profane  ;  yet  he  is  perfectly  distinct  from  every  other 
writer.  The  power  of  his  mind  is  stamped  on  every  line.  His  learning 
has  all  the  effect  of  intuition.  He  describes  object?,  of  which  he  could 
onlv  have  read  in  books,  with  the  vividness  of  actual  observation.  His 
imagination  has  the  force  of  nature.  He  makes  words  tell  as  pictures. 
Milton's  blank  verse  is  the  only  blank  verse  in  the  language  (except 
Shakspeare's)  that  deserves  the  name  of  verse. 

1572.  Edmund  Spenser :  A  much  admired  poet  of  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth :  the  poet  laureate.  His  deatli  occurred  in  1598.  The  language 
of  his  poems  is  now  in  a  great  measure  obsolete  :  they  display  a  lively, 
inventive,  and  powerful  genius.  According  to  Chambers  : — Spenser  is  the 
most  luxuriant  and  melodious  of  all  the  English  descriptive  poets.  His 
creation  of  scenes  and  objects  is  infinite,  and  in  free  and  sonorous  versifi- 
cation he  has  not  yet  been  surpassed.  His  "  lofty  rhyme"  has  a  swell  and 
cadence,  and  a  continuous  sweetness,  that  we  find  nowhere  else.  In 
richness  of  fancy  and  invention,  lie  can  scarcely  be  ranked  below  Shak- 
speare,  and  he  is  fully  as  original.  The  romantic  character  of  his  poetry 
is  its  most  essential  and  permanent  feature.  The  Faery  Queen  is  his  chief 
production,  and  being  adapted  to  the  court  and  times  of  the  virgin  Queen, 
met  with  a  most  enthusiastic  reception.  The  Queen  in  view  of  it  gave 
him  a  pension  of  £50  per  annum. 


e 


SUMMER.  183 

Chaucer,  whose  native,  manners-painting  verse, 

ell  moralized,  shines  through  the  Gothic  cloud    uX"' 
f  time  and  language  o'er  thy  genius,  thrown. 


1576.  Geoffrey  Chaucer  is  denominated  by  Dryden,  the  Father  of  Eng- 
lish poetry.  He  was  born  in  London  in  1328,  educated  at  Cambridge  and 
Oxford,  and  improved  by  continental  travel.  Having  held  under  govern-  \ 
ment  several  lucrative  offices,  he  suffered  severe  persecution  for  embra- 
cing the  tenets  of  Wickliffe,  and  then  retired  from  public  life — not  to  be 
idle,  but  to  cultivate  and  exercise  his  poetic  talents. 

"  Chaucer.was  a  man  of  the  world  as  well  as  a  student :  a  soldier  and 
courtier,  employed  in  public  affairs  of  delicacy  and  importance,  and  equal- 
ly acquainted  with  the  splendor  of  the  warlike  and  magnificent  reign  of 
Edward  III.,  and  with  the  bitter  reverses  of  fortune  which  accompanied 
the  subsequent  troubles  and  convulsions.  When  about  sixty,  in  the  calm 
evening  of  a  busv  life,  he  composed  his  Canterbury  Tales,  simple  and  va- 
ried as  nature  herself,  imbued  with  the  results  of  extensive  experience  and 
close  observation,  and  colored  with  the  genial  lights  of  a  happy  temper- 
ament, that  had  looked  on  the  world  without  austerity,  and  passed  through 
its  changing  scenes  without  losing  the  freshness  and  vivacity  of  youthful 
feeling  and  imagination."  For  a  full  account  of  these  Tales  and  of  the 
author,  I  must  refer  the  reader  to  Chambers'  Cyclopedia,  whence  this  ex- 
tract is  taken. 

Hazlitt  gives  us  the  following  view  of  Chaucer  and  Spenser  :  As  Spen- 
ser was  the  most  romantic  and  visionary,  Chaucer  was  the  most  practical 
of  all  the  great  poets.  His  poetry  reads  like  history.  Every  thing  has 
a  downright  reality  ;  at  least  in  the  relator's  mind.  A  simile,  or  a  senti- 
ment, is  as  if  it  were  given  in  upon  evidence.  His  poetry  resembles  the 
root  just  springing  from  the  ground  rather  than  the  full-blown  flower. 
Chaucer's  descriptions  of  natural  scenery  have  a  local  truth  and  fresh- 
ness, which  gives  the  very  feeling  of  the  air,  the  coolness  or  moisture  of 
the  ground.  Spenser,  as  well  as  Chaucer,  was  engaged  in  active  life  ;  but 
the  genius  of  his  poetry  was  not  active  :  it  is  inspired  by  the  love  of 
ease  and  relaxation  from  all  the  cares  and  business  of  life.  Though  much 
later  than  Chaucer,  his  obligations  to  preceding  writers  were  less.  If 
Ariosto  transports  us  into  the  regions  of  romance,  Spenser's  poetry  is  all 
fairy-land.  In  Ariosto  we  walk  upon  the  ground,  in  company  gay,  fan- 
tastic, and  adventurous  enough.  In  Spenser,  we  wander  in  another  world, 
among  ideal  beings.  The  poet  takes  and  lays  us  in  the  lap  of  a  lovelier 
nature,  by  the  sound  of  softer  streams,  among  greener  hills  and  fairer 
valleys.  He  is  the  painter  of  abstractions,  and  describes  them  with  daz- 
zling minuteness.  His  versification  is  at  once  the  most  smooth  and  the 
most  sounding  in  the  language. 

1 577.  Gothic  cloud  of  time  and  language,  <fec. :  Chaucer  wrote  at  a  time 


184:  SUMMER. 

May  my  song  soften,  as  thy  Daughters  I, 
Britannia,  hail!  for  beauty  is  their  own,  1580 

The  feeling  heart,  simplicity  of  life, 
And  elegance,  and  taste ;  the  faultless  form, 
Shaped  by  the  hand  of  harmony ;  the  cheek, 
Where  the  live  crimson,  through  the  native  white 
Soft- shooting,  o'er  the  face  diffuses  bloom,  1585 

And  every  nameless  grace  ;  the  parted  lip, 
Like  the  red  rosebud  moist  with  morning  dew, 
Breathing  delight;  and,  under  flowing  jet, 
Or  sunny  ringlets,  or  of  circling  brown, 
The  neck  slight  shaded,  and  the  swelling  breast :          1500 
The  look  resistless,  piercing  to  the  soul, 
And  by  the  soul  inform'd,  when  dress'd  in  love 
She  sits  high  smiling  in  the  conscious  eye. 

Island  of  bliss  !  amid  the  subject  seas, 
That  thunder  round  thy  rocky  coasts,  set  up,  1595 

At  once  the  wonder,  terror,  and  delight 
Of  distant  nations  ;  whose  remotest  shores 
Can  soon  be  shaken  by  thy  naval  arm  ; 
Not  to  be  shook  thyself,  but  all  assaults          \ 
Baffling,  as  thy  hoar  cliffs  the  loud  sea- wave.  )  1600 


THE    SAVING    VIRTUES    OF    A    COUNTRY. 

XA 

0  Thou  !  by  whose  Almighty  nod  the  scale   / 
Of  empire  rises,  or  alternate  falls, 
Send  forth  the  saving  virtues  round  the  land, 
In  bright  patrol :  white  peace,  and  social  love  ; 
•  The  tender-looking  charity,  intent  1605 

On  gentle  deeds,  and  shedding  tears  through  smiles  ; 
Undaunted  truth,  and  dignity  of  mind  ; 

and  in  a  language,  comparatively  barbarous.     His  diction,  compared  with 
the  superior  cultivation  of  more  recent  times,  is  rude  and  obscure. 


SUMMER.  185 

Courage  composed  and  keen;  sound  temperance, 

Healthful  in  heart  and  looks  ;  clear  chastity, 

With  blushes  reddening  as  she  moves  along,  1610 

Disorder'd  at  the  deep  regard  she  draws ; 

Rough  industry  ;  activity  untired, 

With  copious  life  inform 'd,  and  all  awake  : 

While  in  the  radiant  front,  superior  shines 

That  first  paternal  virtue,  public  zeal,  1615 

Which  throws  o'er  all  an  equal  wide  survey, 

And,  ever  musing  on  the  commonweal, 

Still  labors  glorious  with  some  great  design. 


SUNSET. 


Low  walks  the  sun,  and  broadens  by  degrees, 
Just  o'er  the  verge  of  day.     The  shifting  clouds  1620 

Assembled  gay,  a  richly  gorgeous  train, 
In  all  their  pomp  attend  his  setting  throne. 
Air,  earth,  and  ocean  smile  immense.     And  now, 
As  if  his  weary  chariot  sought  the  bowers 
Of  Amphitrite  and  her  tending  nymphs,  1625 

(So  Grecian  fable  sung),  he  dips  his  orb ; 
Now  half  immersed  ;  and  now  a  golden  curve  ^^ 

Gives  one  bright  glance,  then  total  disappears. 

Forever  running  an  enchanted  round, 

Passes  the  day,  deceitful,  vain,  and  void;*^^^  1630 

As  fleets  the  vision  o'er  the  formful  brain, 
This  moment  hurrying  wild  th'  impassion'd  soul, 
The  next  in  nothing  lost.     'Tis  so  to  him, 
The  dreamer  of  this  earth,  an  idle  blank : 
A  sight  of  horror  to  the  cruel  wretch,  /         1635 

Who,  all  day  long,  in  sordid  pleasure  roll'd, 


1613.  Informed:  Inspired. 

1625.  Amphitrite  :  The  fabled  wife  of  Neptune,  god  of  the  oceaa 


SUMMER. 


a  useless  load,  has  squandered  vile, 
Upon  his  scoundrel  train,  what  might  have  cheer'd 
A  drooping  family  of  modest  worth. 
But  .ta  the  generous,  still  improving  mind,_  1640 

That  gives  the  hopeless  heart  to  sing  for  joy,      /    , 
Diffusing  kind  beneficence  around, 
Boastless  as  now  descends  the  silent  dew  ; 
To  him  the  long  review  of  order'd  life 
Is  inward  rapture,  only  to  be  felt.  1645 


SUMMER    EVENING. 


Confess'd  from  yonder,  slow-extinguish'd  clouds, 
All  ether  softening,  sober  evening  takes 
Her  wonted  station  in  the  middle  air ; 
A  thousand  shadows  at  her  beck.     First  this 
She  sends  on  earth  ;  then  that  of  deeper  dye    Nr          1650 
Steals  soft  behind  ;  and  then  a  deeper  still, 
In  circle  following  circle,  gathers  round, 
To  close  the  face  of  things.     A  fresher  gale 
Begins  to  wave  the  wood,  and  stir  the  stream, 
Sweeping  with  shadowy  gust  the  fields  of  corn  ;  1655 

While  the  quail  clamors  for  his  running  mate. 
Wide  o'er  the  thistly  lawn,  as  swells  the  breeze, 
A  whitening  shower  of  vegetable  down 
Amusiye  floats.     The  kind,  impartial  care 
Of  Nature  naught  disdains.     Thoughtful  to  feed          1660 
Her  lowest  sons,  and  clothe  the  coming  year, 
From  field  to  field  the  feather'd  seed  she  wings. 

His  folded  flock  secure,  the  shepherd  home 
Hies  merry-hearted  ;  and  by  turns  relieves 
The  ruddy  milkmaid  of  her  brimming  pail ;  1665 

The  beauty,  whom  perhaps  his  witless  heart, 
Unknowing  what  the  joy -mix' d  anguish  means,  | 
Sincerely  loves,  by  that  best  language  shown 


SUMMER. 


1ST 


Of  cordial  glances  and  obliging  deeds. 
Onward  they  pass  o'er  many  a  panting  height, 
And  valley  sunk,  and  unfrequented ;  where 
At  fall  of  eve  the  fairy  people  throng, 
In  various  game,  and  revelry,  to  pass 
The  summer  night,  as  village  stories  tell. 
But  far  about  they  wander  from  the  grave 
Of  him,  whom  his  ungentle  fortune  urged 
Against  his  own  sad  breast  to  lift  the  hand 
Of  impious  violence.     The  lonely  tower 
Is  also  shunn'd,  whose  mournful  chambers  ho 
So  night-struck  fancy  dreams,  the  yelling  ghost 


1670 


1675 
1680 


THE    NIGHT-SCENE METEORS    AND    COMETS. 

Among  the  crooked  lanes,  on  every  hedge, 
The  glow-worm  lights  his  gem  ;  and  through  the  dark 


188  SUMMER. 

A  moving  radiance  twinkles.     Evening  yields 
The  world  to  night ;  not  in  her  winter  robe 
%   Of  massy  Stygian  woof,  but  loose  array 'd  1685 

In  mantle  dun.     A  faint,  erroneous  ray, 
Glanced  from  th'  imperfect  surfaces  of  things, 
'  Flings  half  an  image  on  the  straining  eye  ; 
While  wavering  woods,  and  villages,  and  streams, 
And  rocks,  and  mountain- tops,  that  long  retain'd         1690 
Th'  ascending  gleam,  are  all  one  swimming  scene, 
Uncertain  if  beheld.     Sudden  to  heaven 
Thence  weary  vision  turns  ;  where,  leading  soft 
The  silent  hours  of  love,  with  purest  ray 
Sweet  Venus  shines  ;  and  from  her  genial  rise,  \  1695 

When  daylight  sickens,  till  it  springs  afresh, 
Unrivall'd  reigns,  the  fairest  lamp  of  night. 
As  thus  th'  effulgence  tremulous  I  drink, 
With  cherish'd  gaze,  the  lambent  lightnings  shoot 

cially  the  abdomen ;  and  it  is  from  the  last  two  or  three  segments  of 
this  part  of  the  body  that  the  phosphorescent  light,  for  which  they  are  so 
remarkable,  is  emitted.  Its  intensity  is  evidently  dependent,  in  a  great 
degree,  upon  the  state  of  the  animal :  if  the  insect  be  irritated,  it  is  in- 
creased ;  but  if  its  powers  are  depressed  or  exhausted,  it  is  lessened.  In 
the  glow-worm  (noctiluca),  it  is  only  the  female  that  is  luminous ;  and 
she  is  destitute  of  wings  and  elytra,  which  the  male  possesses.  They 
are  only  active  by  night ;  and  as  the  male  is  kno^vn  to  be  attracted,  like 
moths,  by  lights  in  houses,  it  is  probable  that  the  phosphorescence  of  the 
female  is  given  for  the  purpose  of  signalizing  her  position  to  him. — 
CHAMBERS. 

1685.  Stygian  woof :  Dark,  gloomy  texture,  resembling  in  color  the  fa- 
bled river  Styx  in  Arcadia,  whose  waters  were  made  black  by  Ceres. 

1699.  Lambent  lightnings:  The  Northern  Lights — Aurora  Borealis. 
The  terror  awakened  by  these  in  the  breasts  of  the  superstitious  is 
more  fully  described  in  Autumn,  1107-1130.  Some  (says  Dick)  pretend 
to  see,  in  these  harmless  lights,  armies  mixing  in  fierce  encounter,  and 
fields  streaming  with  blood;  others  behold  states  overthrown,  earth- 
quakes, inundations,  pestilences,  and  the  most  dreadful  calamities.  Be- 
cause some  one  or  other  of  these  calamities  formerly  happened  soon  after 
the  appearance  of  a  comet,  or  the  blaze  of  an  aurora,  therefore  they  -are 
considered  either  as  the  causes  or  the  prognostics  of  such  events  ! 


SUMMER.  189 

Across  the  sky,  or  horizontal  dart  17  00 

In  wondrous  shapes  ;  by  fearful  murmuring  crowds 

Portentous  deem'd.     AmuTtlie  radiant  orbs,     ^ 

That  more  than  deck,  that  animate  the  sky, 

The  life-infusing  suns  of  other  worlds  ; 

Lo  !  from  the  dread  immensity  of  space  1705 

Returning,  with  accelerated  course, 

The  rushing  comet  to  the  sun  descends  ; 

And,  as  he  sinks  below  the  shading  earth, 

With  awful  train  projected  o'er  the  heavens, 

The  guilty  nations  tremble.     But,  above     *".  1710 

Those  superstitious  horrors  that  enslave 

The  fond  sequacious  herd,  to  mystic  faith 

And  blind  amazement  prone,  th'  enlighten'd  few, 

Whose  godlike  minds  Philosophy  exalts, 

The  glorious  stranger  hail.     They  feel  a  joy  17 15 

Divinely  great ;  they  in  their  powers  exult, 

That  wondrous  force  of  thought,  which  mounting  spurns 

This  dusky  spot,  and  measures  all  the  sky ; 

While,  from  his  far  excursion  through  the  wilds 


190  SUMMER. 

Of  barren  ether,  faithful  to  his  time,  1720 

They  see  the  blazing  wonder  rise  anew, 
In  seeming  terror  clad,  but  kindly  bent 
To  work  the  will  of  all-sustaining  Love  : 

"  the  fond  sequacious  herd" — the  ignorant  multitude  that  eagerly  follow 
the  dictation  of  their  superiors,  and  are  prone  to  a  "  mystic  faith"  and 
"  blind  amazement." 

This  point  is  well  illustrated  by  the  following  incident,  related  by  Dr. 
Thomas  Dick : — When  the  splendid  comet  of  1456  appeared  (supposed 
to  be  the  same  as  Halley's  comet),  its  tail  extended  at  one  time  more 
than  sixty  degrees.  Three  days  before  its  perihelion,  its  nucleus  was  as 
bright  as  a  fixed  star,  its  tail  of  the  color  of  gold,  and  it  appears  to  have 
exhibited  coruscations.  Pope  Calixtus,  believing  it  to  be  at  once  the  sign 
and  instrument  of  Divine  wrath,  was  so  frightened  at  its  appearance  that 
he  ordered  public  prayers  to  be  offered  up  in  every  town,  and  the  bells 
to  be  tolled  at  the  noon  of  each  day,  to  warn  the  people  to  supplicate  the 
mercy  of  Heaven.  He  at  the  same  time  excommunicated  both  the  comet 
and  the  Turks,  whose  arms  had  lately  proved  victorious  against  the  Chris- 
tians, and  established  the  custom,  which  still  exists  in  Catholic  countries, 
of  ringing  the  church  bells  at  noon.  In  modern  times  certain  natural  ef- 
fects have  likewise  been  attributed  to  the  influence  of  comets  ;  such  as 
tempests,  hurricanes,  volcanic  eruptions,  cold  or  hot  seasons,  overflowings 
of  rivers,  dense  clouds  of  flies  or  locusts,  the  plague,  the  cholera,  and  other 
disorders. 

The  benevolent  purposes  supposed  to  be  accomplished  by  this  class  of 
the  heavenly  bodies,  are  merely  matters  of  conjecture,  and  Thomson 
presents  them  in  that  light.  There  can  be  no  question  (observes  the  au- 
thor last  quoted)  that  comets  are  as  intimately  connected  with  a  system 
of  benevolence  as  are  the  solar  radiations,  and  their  benign  influence  on 
our  globe  and  on  the  other  planets.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  comets 
may  supply  moisture  to  the  other  planets,  and  invigorate  the  vital  prin- 
ciple of  our  atmosphere  ;  that  they  may  recruit  the  sun  with  fresh  fuel, 
and  repair  the  consumption  of  his  light ;  or  that  they  may  be  the  agents 
for  dispersing  the  electric  fluid  through  the  planetary  regions ;  and  al- 
though there  is  little  probability  that  such  conjectures  are  accordant  with 
.fact,  yet  it  may  be  admitted  that  comets  may  produce  a  physical  influ- 
ence of  a  beneficial  nature  throughout  the  solar  system.  But  what  I 
conceive  to  be  one  of  the  main  designs  of  the  Creator  in  the  formation  oi 
such  a  vast  number  of  splendid  bodies,  is.  that  they  may  serve  as  habita- 
tions for  myriads  of  intellectual  beings,  to  whom  the  Almighty  displays 
his  perfections  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and  on  whom  he  bestows  the  riches 
of  his  beneficence.  If  this  position  be  admitted,  then  we  ought  to  con- 
template the  approach  of  a  comet,  not  as  an  object  of  terror  or  a  harbin- 


SUMMER.  191 

From  his  huge  vapory  train  perhaps  to  shake 

Reviving  moisture  on  the  numerous  orbs,  1725 

Through  which  his  long  ellipsis  winds  ;  perhaps 

To  lend  new  fuel  to  declining  suns, 

To  light  up  worlds,  and  feed  th'  eternal  fire. 

EULOGIUM    ON    PHILOSOPHY. 

With  thee,  serene  Philosophy,  with  thee, 
And  thy  bright  garland,  let  me  crown  my  song  !          1730 
•*  Effusive  source  of  evidence  and  truth  ! 
A  lustre  shedding  o'er  th'  ennobled  mind, 
Stronger  than  summer  noon  ;  and  pure  as  that, 
Whose  mild  vibrations  soothe  the  parted  soul, 
New  to  the  dawning  of  celestial  day.  1735 

Hence  through  her  nourish'd  powers,  enlarged  by  thee, 
She  springs  aloft  with  elevated  pride,       >.  ,. 
Above  the  tangling  mass  of  low  desires, 
That  bind  the  fluttering  crowd  ;  and,  angel-wing'd, 
The  heights  of  science  and  of  virtue  gains  1740 

(Where  all  is  calm  and  clear),  with  nature  round, 
Or  in  the  starry  regions,  or  th'  abyss, 

ger  of  evil,  but  as  a  splendid  world,  of  a  different  construction  from  ours, 
conveying  millions  of  happy  beings  to  survey  a  new  region  of  the  Divine 
empire,  and  to  contemplate  new  scenes  of  creating  power. 

The  whole  subject  of  comets — their  influence  on  the  earth,  their  inhab- 
itability,  and  their  probable  design — is  ingeniously  and  fully  treated  in 
Dick's  "Sidereal  Heavens." 

1735.  New,  &c. :  Unaccustomed  to  the  dawning,  <fec. 

1742.  Abyss  :  It  is  not  clear  in  what  sense  Thomson  uses  this  term.  It 
is  evidently  placed  in  contrast  with  the  starry  regions,  and  therefore  prob- 
ably denotes  the  depths  of  the  earth — all  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
ocean  or  land  that  admits  of  investigation  and  of  exploration.  In  Scrip- 
ture the  term  abyss  denotes  the  waters  that  originally  surrounded  the 
earth,  when  it  was  "  without  form  and  void." 

The  vast  immeasurable  abyss, 
Outrageous  as  a  sea,  dark,  wasteful,  wild.— MILTON. 


192 


SL'MMEB. 


To  Reason's  and  to  Fancy's  eye  display 'd  : 

The  first  up  tracing,  from  the  dreary  void, 

The  chain  of  causes  and  effects  to  HIM,  1745 

The  world-producing  Essence,  Who  alone 

Possesses  being  ;  while  the  last  receives 

The  whole  magnificence  of  heaven  and  earth, 

And  every  beauty,  delicate  or  bold, 

Obvious  or  more  remote,  with  livelier  sense,  1750 

Diffusive  painted  on  the  rapid  mind. 

j    Tutor'd  by  thee,  hence  Poetry  exalts 

/Her  voice  to  ages  ;  and  informs  the  page 
-/With  music,  image,  sentiment,  and  thought, 

Never  to  die  !  the  treasure  of  mankind  !  1755 

Their  highest  honor,  and  their  truest  joy  ! 
t       Without  thee,  what  were  unenlighten'd  man  ? 
!   A  savage  roaming  through  the  woods  and  wilds, 

In  quest  of  prey  ;  and  with  the  unfashion'd  fur 

Rough  clad  ;  devoid  of  every  finer  art  1760 

I  And  elegance  of  life.     Nor  happiness 

Domestic,  mix'd  of  tenderness  and  care, 

Nor  moral  excellence,  nor  social  bliss, 

Nor  guardian  law  were  his  ;  nor  various  skill 

To  turn  the  furrow,  or  to  guide  the  tool  1765 

Mechanic  ;  nor  the  heaven-conducted  prow 

Of  navigation  bold,  that  fearless  braves 

The  burning  line  or  dares  the  wintry  pole  ; 

Mother  severe  of  infinite  delights  ! 

Nothing,  save  rapine,  indolence,  and  guile,  1770 

And  woes  on  woes,  a  still  revolving  train  ! 

o 

Whose  horrid  circle  had  made  human  life 


744.  The  first:  (Reason's  eye)  tracing  from  the  dreary  void,  from  re- 
gions of  space  where  nothing  exists,  <fec. 

1747.    While  the  last  (Fancy's  eye),  cfec. 

1768.  The  burning  line :  The  equinoctial,  where  the  sun  pours  down 
its  vertical  and  hottest  rays. 


SUMMER.  193 

Than  non-existence  worse.     But,  taught  by  thee, 

Ours  are  the  plans  of  policy  and  peace  ; 

To  live  like  brothers,  and,  conjunctive  all,  1775 

Embellish  life.     While  thus  laborious  crowds 

Ply  the  tough  oar,  Philosophy  directs 

The  ruling  helm  ;  or  like  the  liberal  breath. 

Of  potent  heaven,  invisible,  the  sail 

Swells  out,  and  bears  th'  inferior  world  along.  1780 

Nor  to  this  evanescent  speck  of  earth 

Poorly  confined  ;  the  radiant  tracts  on  high 

Are  her  exalted  range,  intent  to  gaze 

Creation  through,  and,  from  that  full  complex 

Of  never-ending  wonders,  IQJBIMICW^  \       1785 

Of  the  SOLE  BEING  right,  who  spoke  the  word. 

And  Nature  moved  complete.     With  inward  view, 

Thence  on  th'  ideal  kingdom  swift  she  turns 

Her  eye  ;  and  instant,  at  her  powerful  glance, 

Th' obedient  phantoms  vanish  or  appear  ;  j    1790 

Compound,  divide,  and  into  order  shift, 

Each  to  his  rank,  from  plain  perception  up 

To  the  fair  forms  of  fancy's  fleeting  train : 

To  reason  then,  deducing  truth  from  truth, 

And  notion  quite  abstract ;  where  first  begins^---/      1795 

The  world  of  spirits,  action  all,  and  life         ^^ 

Unfetter'd  and  unmix'd.     But  here  the  cloud 

(So  wills  Eternal  Providence)  sits  deep  : 

Enough  for  us  to  know  that  this  dark  state, 

In  wayward  passions  lost  and  vain  pursuits,  j  1800 

This  infancy  of  being  cannot  prove 

The  final  issue  of  the  works  of  GOD, 

By  boundless  Love  and  perfect  Wisdom  form'd, 

And  ever  rising  with  the  rising  mind. 


0.  Inferior  world:  The  connection  shows  that  a  ship  is  here  intend- 
ed.    The  expression  is  very  appropriate  and  yet  original. 


AUTUMN, 


INTRODUCTORY  EEMAEKS. 

AUTUMN  is  too  eventful  a  period  in  the  history  of  the  year 
within  the  temperate  parts  of  the  globe,  to  require  foreign  aid 
for  rendering  it  more  varied  and  interesting.  The  promise  of 
the  Spring  is  now  fulfilled.  The  silent  and  gradual  process  of 
maturation  is  completed ;  and  Human  Industry  beholds  with 
triumph  the  rich  products  of  its  toil.  The  vegetable  tribes 
disclose  their  infinitely  varied  forms  of  fruit ;  which  term,  while, 
with  respect  to  common  use,  it  is  confined  to  a  few  peculiar 
modes  of  fructification,  in  the  more  comprehensive  language  of 
the  naturalist,  includes  every  product  of  vegetation  by  which 
the  rudiments  of  a  future  progeny  are  developed  and  separated 
from  the  parent  plant.  These  are  in  part  collected  and  stored 
up  by  those  animals  for  whose  sustenance,  during  the  ensuing- 
sleep  of  winter,  they  are  provided.  The  rest,  furnished  with 
various  contrivances  for  dissemination,  are  scattered,  by  the 
friendly  winds  which  now  begin  to  blow,  over  the  surface  of 
that  earth  which  they  are  to  clothe  and  decorate.  The  young 
of  the  animal  race,  which  Spring  and  Summer  had  brought 
forth  and  cherished,  having  now  acquired  sufficient  vigor,  quit 
their  concealments  and  offer  themselves  to  the  pursuit  of  the 
carnivorous  among  their  fellow-animals,  and  of  the  great  de- 
stroyer man. 

Thus  the  scenery  is  enlivened  with  the  various  sports  of  the 
hunter ;  which,  however  repugnant  they  may  appear  to  that 
system  of  general  benevolence  and  sympathy  which  philosophy 


-98  AUTUMN INTRODUCTORY    REMARKS. 

would  inculcate,  have  ever  afforded  a  most  agreeable  exertion 
to  the  human  powers,  and  have  much  to  plead  in  their  favor 
as  a  necessary  part  of  the  great  plan  of  Nature.  Indeed,  she 
marks  her  intention  with  sufficient  precision  by  refusing  to 
grant  any  longer  those  friendly  shades  which  had  grown  for 
the  protection  of  the  infant  offspring.  The  grove  loses  its 
honors;  but  before  they  are  entirely  tarnished  an  adventitious 
beauty,  arising  from  that  gradual  decay  which  loosens  the  wither- 
ing leaf,  gilds  the  Autumnal  landscape  with  a  temporary  splendor 
superior  to  the  verdure  of  Spring  or  the  luxuriance  of  Summer. 
The  infinitely  various  and  ever-changing  hues  of  the  leaves  at 
this  season,  melting  into  every  soft  gradation  of  tint  and  shade, 
have  long  engaged  the  imitation  of  the  painter,  and  are  equally 
happy  ornaments  in  the  description  of  the  poet. 

These  unvarying  symptoms  of  approaching  Winter  now 
warn  several  of  the  winged  tribes  to  prepare  for  their  aerial 
voyage  to  those  happy  climates  of  perpetual  summer,  where  no 
deficiency  of  food  or  shelter  can  ever  distress  them ;  and  about 
the  same  time  other  fowls  of  hardier  constitution,  which  are 
contented  with  escaping  the  iron  winters  of  the  arctic  regions, 
arrive  to  supply  the  vacancy.  Thus  the  striking  scenes  afforded 
by  that  wonderful  part  of  the  economy  of  Nature,  the  migra- 
tion of  birds,  present  themselves  at  this  seasou  to  the  poet. 
The  thickening  fogs,  the  heavy  rains,  the  swollen  rivers,  while 
they  deform  the  sinking  period  of  the  year,  add  new  subjects 
to  the  pleasing  variety  which  reigns  throughout  its  whole  course, 
and  which  justifies  the  poet's  character  of  it,  as  the  season  when 
the  Muse  "  best  exerts  her  voice." 

AIKIX. 


Autumn. 


THE  AEGUMENT. 

Ifhe  isnbjwt  propos*  d. — Addressed  to  Mr.  Onslow. — A  prospect  of  the  fields  ready  for 
li«L»d^i.  — Beflections  in  praise  of  industry  raised  by  that  view. — Reaping. — A  tale 
rolativ-e  to  it. — A  harvest  storm. — Shooting  and  hunting,  their  barbarity. — A  ludicrous 
account  of  fox-hunting.— A  view  of  an  orchard.— Wall-fruit— A  vineyard.— A  descrip- 
tion of  fogs,  frequent  in  the  latter  part  of  Autumn :  whence  a  digression,  inquiring 
into  the  rise  of  fountains  and  rivers. — Birds  of  season  considered,  that  now  shift  their 
habitation. — The  prodigious  number  of  them  that  cover  the  northern  and  western 
isles  of  Scotland. — Hence  a  view  of  the  country. — A  prospect  of  the  discolored,  fading 
woods. — After  a  gentle  dusky  day,  moonlight. — Autumnal  meteors. — Morning;  to 
which  succeeds  a  calm,  pure,  sunshiny  day,  such  as  usually  shuts  up  the  season. — The 
harvest  being  gathered  in,  the  country  is  dissolved  in  joy. — The  whole  concludes  with 
a  panegyric  on  a  philosophical  country  life. 


CROWN'D  with  the  sickle  and  the  wheaten  sheaf,    ~ 
While  Autumn,  nodding  o'er  the  yellow  plain, 
Comes  jovial  on ;  the  Doric  reed  once  more, 
Well  pleased,  I  tune.     Whatever  the  Wintry  frost 

1-3.  Crowned,  &c. :  The  impersonation  here  is  complete  (I  quote  the 
language  of  Prof.  Wilson),  and  though  the  sex  of  Autumn  is  not  men- 
tioned, it  is  manifestly  meant  to  be  male.  So  far  there  is  nothing  amiss 
either  one  way  or  another.  But  "nodding  o'er  the  yellow  plain"  is  a 
mere  statement  of  a  fact  in  nature,  and  descriptive  of  the  growing  and 
ripening  or  ripened  harvest ;  whereas  it  is  applied  here  to  Autumn  as  a 
figure  who  "comes  jovial  on."  This  is  not  obscurity,  or  indistinctness — 
which  is  often  a  great  beauty  in  impersonation — but  it  is  an  inconsistency 
and  a  contradiction,  and  therefore  indefensible  on  any  ground  either  of 
conception  or  expression. 

8,  4.  lite  Doric  reed  once  more  I  tune:  A  poetic  way  of  saying  that  he 


200  N        AUTUMN. 

Nitrons  prepared  ;  the  various  blossom'd  Spring  5 

Put  in  white  promise  forth ;  and  Summer-suns 
Concocted  strong,  rush  boundless  now  to  view, 
Full,  perfect  all,  and  swell  my  glorious  theme. 

was  now  beginning  another  poem — that  he  was  about  to  describe  in  verse 
the  operations  and  phenomena  of  the  Autumn.  The  reed  or  flute  was  an 
instrument  used  by  the  Muses  at  Mount  Parnassus  in  Greece,  near  which 
mount  the  small  district  of  Doris  was  situated.  The  once  more  will  be 
understood  when  it  is  stated  that  Autumn  was  the  last  of  the  "  Seasons" 
in  the  order  of  their  composition  and  publication. 

The  subject  of  this  note  derives  a  happy  illustration  from  the  history  of 
music  and  its  relation  to  poetry.  In  the  language  of  Dr.  Blair : — "  The 
first  poets  sang  their  own  verses  ;  and  hence  the  beginning  of  what  we  call 
versification,  or  words  arranged  in  a  more  artful  order  than  prose,  so  as  to 
be  suited  to  some  tune  or  melody.  The  music  of  that  early  period  was, 
beyond  doubt,  extremely  simple ;  and  must  have  consisted  chiefly  of  such 
pathetic  notes  as  the  voice  could  adapt  to  the  words  of  the  song.  Musical 
instruments,  such  as  flutes,  and  pipes,  and  a  lyre,  or  harp,  with  a  very  few 
strings,  appear  to  have  been  early  invented  among  some  nations ;  but  no 
more  was  intended  by  these  instruments  than  simply  to  accompany  the 
voice  and  heighten  the  melody  of  song.  The  poet's  strain  was  always 
heard ;  and  from  many  circumstances  it  appears  that  among  the  ancient 
Greeks,  as  well  as  among  other  nations,  the  bard  sung  his  verses,  and 
played  upon  his  harp  at  the  same  time.  In  this  state  the  art  of  music 
was  when  it  produced  all  those  great  effects  of  which  we  read  so  much  in 
ancient  history." 

5.  Citrous  prepared :  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  Thomson  meant  by  this 
expression,  as  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  in  his  day  the  existence  of  nitro- 
gen in  snow  (as  an  element  of  ammonia)  was  known,  and  which  serves  a 
valuable  purpose  in  the  economy  of  vegetation.  To  this  probably  a  re- 
cent author  refers  when  he  remarks  with  reference  to  the  effects  of  snow 
on  the  soil,  that  "the  nitrous  particles  which  it  contains  are  said  to  be  of 
a  fertilizing  quality,  and  as  it  gradually  melts,  these  particles  penetrate 
the  earth,  being  carried  to  the  roots  of  the  plants,  mingled  with  the  water 
into  which  it  is  converted."  In  Thomson's  day  chemistry  was,  as  a  science, 
yet  in  its  infancy.  The  terms  nitre  and  nitrous  were  often  used  in  a 
vague  sense  for  saline  substances  and  saline  properties.  The  frost,  or 
snow  the  product  of  frost,  was  then  supposed,  from  its  fertilizing  influence, 
to  incorporate  some  of  these  qualities.  Thus  Sturm  speaks  of  the  saline 
particles  which  float  in  the  air,  and  by  uniting  with  the  snow,  occasion  it  to 
crystallize  into  flakes  of  regular  form.  Perhaps  Thomson  only  speaks  of 
frost  as  resembling  nitre  in  its  appearance  :  Whateer  the  wintry  frost 
nitrous  (having  the  aspect  of  nitre)  prepared. 


AUTUMN.  201 

Ojosjow  !  the  Muse,  ambitious  of  thy  name, 
To  grace,  inspire,  and  dignify  her  song,  10 

Would  from  the  public  voice  thy  gentle  ear 
Awhile  engage.     Thy  noble  care  she  knows, 
The  patriot  virtues  that  distend  thy  thought, 
Spread  on  thy  front,  and  in  thy  bosom  glow ; 
While  listening  senates  hang  upon  thy  tongue,  '_  15 

Devolving  through  the  maze  of  eloquence, 
A  roll  of  periods  sweeter  than  her  song. 
But  she  too  pants  for  public  virtue ;  she, 
Though  weak  of  power,  yet  strong  in  ardent  will, 
Whene'er  her  country  rushes  on  her  heart,  20 

Assumes  a  bolder  note,  and  fondly  tries 
To  mix  the  patriot's  with  the  poet's  flame. 

9.  Onslow:  To  this  same  then  distinguished  gentleman,  Dr.  Young 
dedicated  the  first  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts."  If  the  following  lines  con- 
tain no  more  than  a  just  tribute,  we  can  see  a  fitness  in  dedicating  the 
poem  to  him. 

21.  To  mix,  <fec. :  Thomson  gave  utterance  to  his  patriotic  sentiments 
most  fully  and  distinctly  in  his  poem,  "  Britannia,"  which  was  designed 
and  adapted  to  rouse  the  nation  to  revenge  the  interruptions  of  their 
trade  by  the  Spaniards  in  America ;  and  in  another  and  more  elaborate 
poem,  entitled  "  Liberty,"  which  was  published  after  an  extensive  tour  on 
the  continent  with  the  Honorable  Charles  Talbot,  on  whom  he  attended, 
much  to  the  advantage  of  the  poet  in  the  enlargement  of  his  views  of 
men  and  things,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  his  taste.  Two  years  were, 
after  his  return  to  England,  bestowed  upon  the  composition  of  this  his 
most  favorite  poem,  and  one  from  which  he  anticipated  the  largest  re- 
muneration of  every  kind :  but  he  suffered  in  this  expectation  a  most 
unlooked-for  and  bitter  disappointment.  It  has  never  been  popular — 
'*  No  man,"  as  one  remarks,  "  was  animated  by  a  stronger  or  more  disin- 
terested love  of  public  freedom  than  Thomson,  and  he  everywhere  incul- 
cates patriotic  sentiments ;  but  his  '  Liberty'  neither  stimulates  our 
patriotism,  nor  increases  our  veneration  for  his  idol." 

The  same  writer  accounts  for  this  result  as  follows : — "  To  the  power  of 
painting  scenery  and  delineating  the  softer  and  more  pleasing  traits  of 
character,  Thomson's  genius  seems  to  have  been  confined ;  but  he  was 
incapable  of  describing  the  heart  when  assailed  by  boisterous  passions, 
and  his  representations  of  ambition,  patriotism,  or  revenge,  are  compara- 
tively feeble." 


202  AUTUMN. 


FIELDS    READY    FOR    HARVEST. 

When  the  bright  Virgin  gives  the  beauteous  days, 
And  Libra  weighs  in  equal  scales  the  year ; 
From  heaven's  high  cope  the  fierce  effulgence  shook         25 
Of  parting  Summer,  a  serener  blue, 
With  golden  light  enliven'd,  wide  invests 
The  happy  world.     Attempered  suns  arise, 
Sweet  beam'd,  and  shedding  oft  through  lucid  clouds 
A  pleasing  calm  ;   while  broad,  and  brown,  below  30 

Extensive  harvests  hang  the  heavy  head. 
Rich,  silent,  deep,  they  stand ;  for  not  a  gale 
Rolls  its  light  billows  o'er  the  bending  plain ; 
A  calm  of  plenty !  till  the  ruffled  air 

Falls  from  its  poise,  and  gives  the  breeze  to  blow.  35 

Rent  is  the  fleecy  mantle  of  the  sky  ; 
The  clouds  fly  different,  and  the  sudden  sun 
By  fits  effulgent  pilds  th'  illumined  field, 

J  V^_J?  o       

And  black  by  fits  the  shadows  sweep  along : 

A  gayly  checker'd,  heart-expanding  view,  40 

Far  as  the  circling  eye  can  shoot  around, 

Unbounded  tossing  in  a  flood  of  corn. 


23,  24.  The  bright  Virgin  is  the  constellation  Virgo,  the  sixth  from 
Aries;  the  sun  enters  it  on  the  22d  of  August.  The  epithet  bright  may 
be  applied  to  it  either  from  the  star  Spica  of  the  first  magnitude  which  it 
contains,  or  from  the  brightness  of  the  sun's  rays  at  that  period.  Libra, 
the  Balance,  is  the  seventh  from  Aries,  and  is  so  called  because  the  astro- 
nomical year,  commencing  with  Aries,  is  then  half  accomplished.  This  is 
the  poet's  idea ;  but  a  better  reason  for  the  name  is  the  fact  that  when 
the  sun  enters  this  sign  the  days  and  nights  are  equal  over  the  globe. 

25    Cope:  Arch  or  concave  of  the  sky. 

26-42.  While  Summer  is  retiring,  amid  rain  and  fire,  Autumn  has 
already  appeared  :  with  a  matron-like  grace  she  takes  the  vacant  throne, 
and,  '•  crowned  with  the  sickle  and  the  wheaten  sheaf/'  begins  her  reign. 
The  air  is  calm  and  the  fields  are  ripe. — C. 

Corn  is  used  by  British  writers  in  a  larger  sense  than  with  us — to  indi- 
cate all  the  various  kinds  of  grain. 


AUTUMN.  203 

I 

tHE    MANIFOLD    BLESSINGS    OF    INDUSTRY,   AND    THE    PROGRESS    OF/1 
SOCIETY. 

These  are  thy  blessings,  Industry !  rough  power ! 
Whom  labor  still  attends,  and  sweat,  and  pain ; 
Yet  the  kind  source  of  every-gentle  art,  45 

And  all  the  soft  civility  of  life : 
Raiser  of  humankind  !  by  Nature  cast, 
Naked  and  helpless,  out  amid  the  woods 
And  wilds,  to  rude  inclement  elements ; 
With  various  seeds  of  art  deep  in  the  mind  50 

Implanted,  and  profusely  poured  around 
Materials  infinite  ;  but  idle  all. 
Still  unexerted,  in  th'  unconscious  breast, 
Slept  the  lethargic  powers  :  corruption  still, 
Voracious,  swallow'd  what  the  liberal  hand  55 

Of  bounty  scatter'd  o'er  the  savage  year ; 
And  still  the  sad  barbarian,  roving,  mix'd 
With  beasts  of  prey ;  or,  for  his  acorn-meal, 
Fought  the  fierce  tusky  boar :  a  shivering  wretch, 
Aghast  and  comfortless,  when  the  bleak  north,  60 

With  Winter  charged,  let  the  mix'd  tempest  fly, 
Hail,  rain,  and  snow,  and  bitter-breathing  frost. 
Then  to  the  shelter  of  the  hut  he  fled, 
And  the  wild  season,  sordid,  pined  away. 
For  home  he  had  not :  home  is  the  resort  65 


65,  66.  Home  is  the  resort,  &c. :  The  description  here  given  of  home  is 
beautiful — honorable  alike  to  the  genius,  the  taste,  and  social  training  of 
the  poet.  He  had  been  favored  in  early  life  with  a  pious,  intelligent,  and 
happy  home ;  but  the  death  of  his  excellent  father,  when  the  young  poet 
•was  yet  at  the  University  in  Edinburgh,  and  the  necessity,  arising  out  of 
the  slender  circumstances  of  the  family,  of  undertaking  to  support  himself 
by  the  efforts  of  his  genius,  directed  his  steps,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five, 
to  London,  in  the  hope  of  there  acquiring  fame  as  well  as  subsistence. 
His  mother,  it  is  said,  was  a  person  of  uncommon  natural  endowments, 
possessed  of  every  social  and  domestic  virtue,  and  gifted  moreover  with 


204  AUTUMN. 

Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace  and  plenty,  where, 

Supporting  and  supported,  polish'd  friends 

And  dear  relations  mingle  into  bliss. 

But  this  the  rugged  savage  never  felt,       ' 

E'en  desolate  in  crowds  ;  and  thus  his  days  70 

Roll'd  heavy,  dark,  and  unenjoy'd  along ; 

A  waste  of  time  !  till  Industry  approached, 

And  roused  him  from  his  miserable  sloth ; 

His  faculties  unfolded  ;   pointed  out 

Where  lavish  Xature  the  directing  hand  75 

Of  art  demanded  ;  show'd  him  how  to  raise        i 

His  feeble  force  by  the  mechanic  powers, 

To  dig  the  mineral  from  the  vaulted  earth  ; 

an  imagination  scarcely  inferior,  in  vivacity  and  warmth,  to  her  son's.  To 
his  parents  lie  was  largely  indebted  for  a  religious  education,  the  advan- 
tage of  which  shines  forth  with  great  beauty  in  his  poems.  With  many 
tears  he  left  his  affectionate  mother  in  1725,  in  setting  out  for  London; 
and  upon  the  occasion  of  her  death,  which  soon  after  occurred,  he  prepared 
a  touching  elegy,  in  which  he  commemorates  his  pain  at  parting  with  her. 
A  part  of  this  elegy,  as  an  illustration  of  his  strong  filial  and  home  attach 
ment,  I  will  introduce  : 

Still,  still !  is  she  iny  soul's  divinest  theme, 
The  waking  vision,  and  the  wailing  dream : 
Amid  the  ruddy  sun's  enlivening  blaze 
O'er  my  dark  eyes  her  dewy  image  plays, 
And  in  the  dread  dominion  of  the  night 
Shines  out  again  the  sadly  pleasing  sight. 

*  *  *  * 

But  ah  !  that  night — that  torturing  night  remains: — 
May  darkness  dye  it  with  its  deepest  stains, 
When  on  the  margin  of  the  briny  flood 
Chill'd  with  a  sad  presaging  damp  I  stood, 
Took  the  last  look,  ne'er  to  behold  her  more, 
And  mixed  our  murmurs  with  the  wavy  roar, 
Heard  the  last  words  fall  from  her  pious  tongue, 
Then,  wild  into  the  bulging  vessel  flung, 
Which  soon,  too  soon  conveyed  me  from  her  sight, 
Dearer  than  life,  and  liberty,  and  light ! 

Though  it  does  not  appear  from  the  biographical  accounts  of  Thomson 
that  he  ever  returned  to  Scotland,  even  to  make  a  visit,  which  may 
awaken  surprise,  yet  there  is  abundant  evidence  that  he  did  not  forget 
his  needy  sisters,  but  occasionally  wrote  to  them  and  made  remittances 
for  their  support  and  comfort. 


AUTUMN.  205 

On  what  to  turn  the  piercing  rage  of  fire ; 

On  what  the  torrent,  and  the  gather'd  blast ;  80 

Gave  the  tall  ancient  forest  to  his  axe ; 

Taught  him  to  chip  the  wood,  and  hew  the  stone, 

Till  by  degrees  the  finish'd  fabric  rose ; 

Tore  from  his  limbs  the  blood-polluted  fur, 

And  wrapp'd  them  in  the  woolly  vestment  warm,  85 

Or  bright  in  glossy  silk  and  flowing  lawn ; 

With  wholesome  viands  fill'd  his  table ;  pour'd 

The  generous  glass  around,  inspired  to  wake 

The  life-refining  soul  of  decent  wit : 

Nor  stopp'd  at  barren  bare  necessity;  90 

(But  still  advancing  bolder,  led  him  on 
To  pomp,  to  pleasure,  elegance,  and  grace ; 
And,  breathing  high  ambition  through  his  soul, 
Set  science,  wisdom,  glory,  in  his  view, 
And  bade  him  be  the  lord  of  all  below.  95 

Then  gathering  men  their  natural  powers  combined, 
And  form'd  a  Public  ;  to  the  general  good 
Submitting,  aiming,  and  conducting  all. 
For  this  the  patriot  council  met,  the  full, 
The  free,  and  fairly  represented  whole ;  IOC 

For  this  they  planned  t-he  holy  guardian  laws, 
Distinguish'd  orders,  animated  arts, 
And  with  joint  force,  oppression  chaining,  set 
Imperial  Justice  at  the  helm ;  yet  still 
To  them  accountable:  nor,  slavish,  dream'd  105 

That  toiling  millions  must  resign  their  weal, 
And  all  the  honey  of  their  search,  to  such 
As  for  themselves  alone  themselves  have  raised. 

Hence,  every  form  of  cultivated  life, 

In  order  set,  protected,  and  inspired,  110 

Into  perfection  wrought.     Uniting  all, 
Society  grew  numerous,  high,  polite, 
And  happy.     Nurse  of  art !  the  city  rear'd 


206  AUTUMN. 

In  beauteous  pride  her  tower-encircled  head ;    . 

And,  stretching  street  on  street,  by  thousands  drew,      115 

From  twining  woody  haunts,  or  the  tough  yew 

To  bows  strong-straining,  her  aspiring  sons.        — 

Then  commerce  brought  into  the  public  walk 
The  busy  merchant ;  the  big  warehouse  built ; 
Raised  the  strong  crane  ;  choked  up  the  loaded  street     120 
With  foreign  plenty ;  and  thy  stream,  0  Thames, 
Large,  gentle,  deep,  majestic,  king  of  floods ! 
Chose  for  his  grand  resort,     On  either  hand, 
Like  a  long  wintry  forest,  groves  of  masts 
Shot  up  their  spires  :  the  bellying  sheet  between  125 

Possess'd  the  breezy  void ;  the  sooty  hulk 
Steer'd  sluggish  on ;  the  splendid  barge  along 
Row'd,  regular  to  harmony ;  around, 
The  boat,  light  skimming,  stretch'd  its  oary  wings ; 
While  deep  the  various  voice  of  fervent  toil  130 

From  bank  to  bank  increased :  whence  ribb'd  with  oak, 
To  bear  the  British  thunder,  black  and  bold, 
The  roaring  vessel  rush'd  into  the  main. 

Then  too  the  pillar' d  dome,  magnific,  heaved 
Its  ample  roof ;  and  luxury  within  135 

Pour'd  out  her  glittering  storest     The  canvas  smooth, 

^  With  glowing  life  protuberant,  to  the  view 
Embodied  rose ;  the  statue  seem'd  to  breathe, 
And  soften  into  flesh,  beneath  the  touch 
Of  forming  art,  imagination-flush'd.  140 

f      All  is  the  gift  of  Industry ;  whatever 

j   Exalts,  embellishes,  and  renders  life 

116.  Yew:  An  evergreen  of  the  pine  genus,  furnishing  valuable  timber 
for  ships,  and  used  by  the  yeomanry  of  England  in  former  times  for 
making  bows  of  great  power  and  effect.  The  strong-straining  effort  in 
bending  them  for  this  purpose  is  indicated  in  the  text. 

141-3.  While  the  sickle  is  moving,  and  the  yellow  grain  falling,  Com- 
merce crowds  the  Thames  with  a  grove  of  masts :  Art,  on  its  banks, 
makes  the  "  pillared  domes"  arise,  the  smooth  canvas  glow  with  life,  and 


AUTUMN.  207 

/  Delightful.     Pensive  Winter  cheer 'd  by  him, 
Sits  at  the  social  fire,  and  happy  hears 
Th'  excluded  tempest  idly  rave  along.  145 

His  hardened  fingers  deck  the  gaudy  Spring. 
Without  him,  Summer  were  an  arid  waste ; 
Nor  to  th'  Autumnal  months  could  thus  transmit 
Those  full,  mature,  immeasurable  stores, 
That  waving  round,  recall  my  wandering  song.  150 

REAPING.  ^ 

Soon  as  the  morning  trembles  o'er  the  sky,     *v/ 
And,  unperceived,  unfolds  the  spreading  day, 
Before  the  ripen'd  field  the  reapers  stand, 
In  fair  array  ;  each  by  the  lass  he  loves^- 
To  bear  the  rougher  part,  and  mitigate  155 

By  nameless  gentle  offices  her  toil. 
At  once  they  stoop  and  swell  the  lusty  sheaves ; 
While  through  their  cheerful  band  the  rural  talk, 
The  rural  scandal,  and  the  rural  jest, 

Fly  harmless,  to  deceive  the  tedious  time,  160 

And  steal  unfelt  the  sultry  hours  away. 
Behind  the  master  walks,  builds  up  the  shocks ; 
And,  conscious,  glancing  oft  on  every  side 
His  sated  eye,  feels  his  heart  heave  with  joy. 
The  gleaners  spread  around,  and  here  and  there,  165 

^-   Spike  after  spike,  their  scanty  harvest  pick. 

3e  not  too  narrow,  husbandmen !  but  fling 

the  a  'tue  seem  to  breathe  and  soften  into  flesh.  The  poet  imputes  this 
to  UK  riyfit  cause. — C. 

16'i  -176.  Be  not,  &c. :  The  benevolence  of  the  poet  here  construct?  a 
most  eloquent  appeal,  which  may  be  easily  and  usefully  directed  to  other 
classes  of  the  poor.  A  similar  appeal  is  made  in  350-859. 

Dr.  Murdoch,  in  his  biography  of  Thomson,  says  : — As  for  his  more  dis- 
tinguishing qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  they  are  better  represented  in 
his  writings  than  they  can  be  by  the  pen  of  any  biographer.  There,  hja 


208  AUTUMX. 

From  the  full  sheaf,  with  charitable  stealth, 
The  liberal  handful.     Think,  oh  grateful  think ! 
How  good  the  God  of  Harvest  is  to  you,  170 

Who  pours  abundance  o'er  your  flowing  fields  ; 
While  these  unhappy  partners  of  your  kind 
Wide  hover  round  you,  like  the  fowls  of  heaven, 
And  ask  their  humble  dole.     The  various  turns 
Of  fortune  ponder  ;  that  your  sons  may  want  175 

\   What  now,  with  hard  reluctance,  faint  ye  give. 

LAVINIA    AND    PALEMOX.     S/ 

The  lovely  young  Lavinia  once  had  friends  ; 
And  fortune  smiled,  deceitful,  on  her  birth  : 
For,  in  her  helpless  years  deprived  of  all, 
Of  every  stay,  save  innocence  and  Heaven,  180 

She,  with  her  widow'd  mother,  feeble,  old, 
And  poor,  lived  in  a  cottage,  far  retired 
Among  the  windings  of  a  woody  vale ; 
By  solitude  and  deep  surrounding  shades, 
But  more  by  bashful  modesty,  conceal'd.  185 

Together  thus  they  shunn'd  the  cruel  scorn, 
Which  virtue,  sunk  to  poverty,  would  meet 
From  giddy  passion  and  low-minded  pride  : 
Almost  on  Nature's  common  bounty  fed  ; 
Like  the  gay  birds  that  sung  them  to  repose,  190 

Content,  and  careless  of  to-morrow's  fare. 

bve  of  mankind,  of  his  country  and  friends,  his  devotion  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  founded  on  the  most  elevated  and  just  conceptions  of  his  opera- 
tions and  providence,  shine  out  in  every  page.  So  unbounded  was  his 
tenderness  of  heart,  that  it  took  in  even  the  brute  creation  :  judge  what 
it  must  have  been  towards  his  own  species.  He  is  not  indeed  known, 
through  his  whole  life,  to  have  given  any  person  one  moment's  pain,  by 
!;i?  writings  or  otherwise. 

177.  This  story  is  introduced  by  way  of  illustrating  and  enforcing  the 
beautiful  appeal  contained  in  the  last  paragraph. 


AUTUMN.  209 

Her  form  was  fresher  than  the  morning  rose, 

When  the  dew  wets  its  leaves  ;  unstain'd  and  pure, 

As  is  the  lily  or  the  mountain  snow. 

The  modest  virtues  mingled  in  her  eyes,  195 

Still  on  the  ground  dejected,  darting  all 

Their  humid  beams  into  the  blooming  flowers  : 

Or,  when  the  mournful  tale  her  mother  told, 

Of  what  her  faithless  fortune  promised  once, 

Thrill'd  in  her  thought,  they,  like  the  dewy  star  200 

Of  evening,  shone  in  tears.     A  native  grace 

Sat  fair  proportion'd  on  her  polish'd  limbs, 

Yeil'd  in  a  simple  robe,  their  best  attire, 

Beyond  the  pomp  of  dress  ;  for  loveliness 

Needs  not  the  foreign  aid  of  ornament,  205 

But  is,  when  unadorn'd,  adorn'd  the  most. 

Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  beauty's  self, 

Recluse  amid  the  close-embowering  woods.     / 

As  in  the  hollow  breast  of  Apennine, 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  encircling  hills,  210 


207-217.  The  history  of  the  composition  of  this  passage  is  thus  related 
by  Chambers : — One  of  the  finest  and  most  picturesque  similes  in  the 
work  was  supplied  by  Pope,  to  whom  Thomson  had  given  an  interleaved 
copy  of  the  edition  of  1736.  The  quotation  will  not  be  out  of  place  here, 
as  it  is  honorable  to  the  friendship  of  the  brother  poets,  and  tends  to 
show  the  importance  of  careful  revision,  without  which  no  excellence  can 
be  attained  in  literature  or  the  arts.  How  deeply  must  it  be  regretted 
that  Pope  did  not  oftener  write  in  blank  verse  !  Describing  Lavinia,  the 
lines  were — 

Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  Beauty's  self, 

Eecluse  among  the  woods ;  if  city  dames 

"Will  deign  their  faith ;  and  thus  she  went,  compell'd 

By  strong  necessity,  with  as  serene 

And  pleased  a  look  as  Patience  e'er  put  on, 

To  glean  Palemon's  fields. 

Pope  drew  his  pen  through  this  description,  and  supplied  the  following 
lines  (those  of  the  present  text),  which  Thomson  must  have  been  too 
much  gratified  with  not  to  adopt  with  pride  and  pleasure — and  so  they 
stand  in  all  the  subsequent  editions. 


210  AUTUMN. 

A  myrtle  rises,  far  from  human  eye, 

And  breathes  its  balmy  fragrance  o'er  the  wild ; 

So  flourished,  blooming  and  unseen  by  all, 

The  sweet  Lavinia;  till,  at  length,  compell'd 

By  strong  necessity's  supreme  command,  215 

With  smiling  patience  in  her  looks,  she  went 

To  glean  Palernon's  fields.     The  pride  of  swains 

Palemon  was,  the  generous  and  the  rich ; 

Who  led  the  rural  life  in  all  its  joy 

And  elegance,  such  as  Arcadian  song  220 

Transmits  from  ancient  uncorrupted  times ; 

When  tyrant  custom  had  not  shackled  man, 

But  free  to  follow  Nature  was  the  mode. 


217.  To  glean,  <fec. :  In  European  countries  (says  Duncan)  the  humane 
practice  prevails  of  permitting  the  poor  to  glean  the  grain-fields,  after 
the  reapers.  It  is  a  practice  obviously  founded  on  the  Mosaic  law,  and  is 
at  least  as  old  as  the  entrance  of  the  children  of  Israel.  By  that  law, 
the  destitute  inhabitants  were  permitted  to  glean  three  different  sorts  of 
produce, — that  of  the  vine,  that  of  the  olive,  and  that  of  grain.  With 
the  view  of  rendering  this  law  effective  for  the  relief  of  the  poor,  it  was 
required  that  after  the  olive-tree  was  beaten  the  owner  should  not  "  go 
over  the  boughs  again,"  and  that  when  the  grapes  were  gathered,  he 
should  not  "  glean  the  vineyard  afterwards ;"  what  was  left,  in  both 
cases,  becoming  the  property  of  "  the  stranger,  the  fatherless,  and  the 
widow."  In  like  manner,  and  for  the  same  object,  when  the  farmer  reap- 
ed his  grain,  he  was  forbidden  to  make  "  a  clean  riddance"  of  the  corners 
of  the  field,  or  to  gather  any  of  the  gleanings ;  and  he  was  even  en- 
joined to  abstain  from  removing,  for  his  own  use,  any  sheaf  which,  when 
carrying  home  his  grain,  he  might  inadvertently  have  left  behind.  Every 
one  is  acquainted  with  the  beautiful  and  affecting  story  of  Ruth,  the  Mo- 
abitess,  in  which  this  practice,  as  it  prevailed  among  the  descendants  of 
Abraham,  is  graphically  introduced.  The  benevolent  intention  of  this 
law  cannot  be  mistaken ;  and  the  custom,  though  not  enjoined  by  the 
Gospel,  is1  too  conformable  to  its  spirit  to  have  been  overlooked  or  neg- 
lected in  almost  any  quarter  where  Christianity  has  extended  its  influence. 

220.  Arcadian  song :  Arcadia  was  located  in  the  centre  of  the  Pelc- 
ponnesus — a  district  of  mountains  and  valleys  and  streams,  for  the  most 
part  adapted  and  devoted  to  pastoral  pursuits.  It  was  the  Alpine  coun- 
try of  Greece,  and  the  rural  habits  of  its  people  are  said  to  have  been 
similar  to  those  of  the  people  of  the  Alps. 


AUTUMN.  211 

He  then,  his  fancy  with  autumnal  scenes 
Amusing,  chanced  beside  his  reaper- train  225 

To  walk,  when  poor  Lavinia  drew  his  eye  ; 
Unconscious  of  her  power,  and  turning  quick 
With  unaffected  blushes  from  his  gaze. 
He  saw  her  charming,  but  he  saw  not  half 
The  charms  her  downcast  modesty  concealed.  230 

That  very  moment  love  and  chaste  desire 
Sprung  in  his  bosom,  to  himself  unknown  ; 
For  still  the  world  prevail'd,  and  its  dread  laugh, 
Which  scarce  the  firm  philosopher  can  scorn, 
Should  his  heart  own  a  gleaner  in  the  field  ;  235 

And  thus  in  secret  to  his  soul  he  sigh'd  : 
f<  What  pity  !  that  so  delicate  a  form, 
By  beauty  kindled,  where  enlivening  sense 
And  more  than  vulgar  goodness  seem  to  dwell, 
Should  be  devoted  to  the  rude  embrace  240 

Of  some  indecent  clown.     She  looks,  methinks, 
Of  old  Acasto's  line  !  and  to  my  mind 
Recalls  that  patron  of  my  happy  life, 
From  whom  my  liberal  fortune  took  its  rise  ; 
Now  to  the  dust  gone  down  ;  his  houses,  lands,  245 

And  once  fair-spreading  family,  dissolved. 
'Tis  said,  that  in  some  lone,  obscure  retreat, 
Urged  by  remembrance  sad,  and  decent  pride, 
Far  from  those  scenes  which  knew  their  better  days, 
His  aged  widow  and  his  daughter  live,  250 

Whom  yet  my  fruitless  search  could  never  find. 
Romantic  wish  !  would  this  the  daughter  were  !" 


229.  Her  charming :  An  elliptical  and  classical  form  of  expression — 
meaning,  he  saw  that  she  was  a  charming,  or  highly  agreeable  person. 

242.  Acasfo  :  A  former  friend  and  benefactor  of  Palemon — who  had 
been  a  man  of  generous  heart  and  ample  means,  but  before  he  died  be- 
came reduced  in  circumstances,  and  left  his  widow  and  beautiful  daughter 
in  a  condition  of  penury. 


212 


AUTUMN. 


When,  strict  inquiring,  from  herself  he  found 
She  was  the  same,  the  daughter  of  his  friend, 
Of  bountiful  Acasto  ;  who  can  speak  255 

The  mingled  passions  that  surprised  his  heart, 
And  through  his  nerves  in  shivering  transport  ran  ? 
Then  blazed  his  smother'd  flame,  avow'd,  and  bold  ; 
And  as  he  view'd  her,  ardent,  o'er  and  o'er, 
Love,  gratitude,  and  pity  wept  at  once.  260 

Confused,  and  frighten'd  at  his  sudden  tears, 
Her  rising  beauties  flush 'd  a  higher  bloom, 
As  thus  Palemon,  passionate  and  just, 
Pour'd  out  the  pious  rapture  of  his  soul : 

"  And  art  thou  then  Acasto's  dear  remains  ?  265 

She,  whom  my  restless  gratitude  has  sought, 
So  long  in  vain  ?     0  heavens  !  the  very  same, 
*^The  soften'd  image  of  my  noble  friend ; 
Alive  his  every  look,  his  every  feature, 
More  elegantly  touch'd.     Sweeter  than  Spring  !  270 

Thou  sole  surviving  blossom  from  the  root 
That  nourish'd  up  my  fortune  !  say,  ah  where, 
In  what  sequester'd  desert  hast  thou  drawn 
The  kindest  aspect  of  delighted  heaven  ? 
Into  such  beauty  spread,  and  blown  so  fair ;  275 

Though  poverty's  cold  wind  and  crushing  rain 
Beat  keen  and  heavy  on  thy  tender  years  ? 
0,  let  me  now  into  a  richer  soil 

Transplant  thee  safe !  where  vernal  suns  and  showers 
Diffuse  their  warmest,  largest  influence ;  280 

And  of  my  garden  be  the  pride  and  joy  ! 
Ill  it  befits  thee,  oh,  it  ill  befits 
Acasto's  daughter,  his,  whose  open  stores, 
Though  vast,  were  little  to  his  ampler  heart, 
The  father  of  a  country,  thus  to  pick  285 

The  very  refuse  of  those  harvest- fields, 
Which  from  his  bounteous  f Headship  I  enjoy. 


AUTUMN.  213 

Then  throw  that  shameful  pittance  from  thy  hand, 

But  ill  applied  to  such  a  rugged  task. 

The  fields,  the  master,  all,  my  fair,  are  thine ;  290 

If  to  the  various  blessings  which  thy  house 

Has  on  me  lavish'd,  thou  wilt  add  that  bliss, 

That  dearest  bliss,  the  power  of  blessing  thee  !" 

Here  ceased  the  youth ;  yet  still  his  speaking  eye 
Expressed  the.  sacred  triumph  of  his  soul,  295 

With  conscious  virtue,  gratitude,  and  love, 
Above  the  vulgar  joy  divinely  raised. 
Nor  waited  he  reply.     Won  by  the  charm 
Of  goodness  irresistible,  and  all 

In  sweet  disorder  lost,  she  blush'd  consent.  300 

The  news  immediate  to  her  mother  brought, 
While,  pierced  with  anxious  thought,  she  pined  away 
The  lonely  moments  for  Lavinia's  fate  ; 
Amazed,  and  scarce  believing  wThat  she  heard, 
Joy  seized  her  wither 'd  veins,  and  one  bright  gleam       305 
Of  setting  life  shone  on  her  evening  hours  ; 
Not  less  enraptured  than  the  happy  pair, 
Who  flourish'd  long  in  tender  bliss,  and  rear'd 
A  numerous  offspring,  lovely  like  themselves, 
And  good,  the  grace  of  all  the  country  round.        >^     310 

X 

A    HARVEST    STORM. 

Defeating  oft  the  labors  of  the  year, 
T^e__sultry:^Quth  collects  a  potent  blast. 
At  first,  the  groves  are  scarcely  seen  to  stir 
Their  trembling  tops,  and  a  still  murmur  runs 
Along  the  soft-inclining  fields  of  corn.  315 

But  as  the  aerial  tempest  fuller  swells, 

312.  The  sultry  south,  &c. :  Amid  this  genial  season,  the  south  seems 
to  grudge  the  happiness  and  plenty  which  Autumn  bestows  on  man,  and 
collects  her  storms,  and  lets  them  loose  on  the  earth. — C. 


214:  AUTUMN. 

And  in  one  mighty  stream,  invisible, 
Immense,  the  whole  excited  atmosphere 
Impetuous  rushes  o'er  the  sounding  world  ; 
Strain'd  to  the  root,  the  stooping  forest  pours  320 

A  rustling  shower  of  yet  untimely  leaves. 
f  High  beat,  the  circling  mountains  eddy  in, 
From  the  bare  wild,  the  dissipated  storm, 
And  send  it  in  a  torrent  down  the  vale. 
Exposed,  and  naked  to  its  utmost  rage,  325 

Through  all  the  sea  of  harvest  rolling  round, 
The  billowy  plain  floats  wide  ;  nor  can  evade, 
Though  pliant  to  the  blast,  its  seizing  force ; 
Or  whirl'd  in  air,  or  into  vacant  chaff 
Shook  waste.     And  sometimes  too  a  burst  of  rain,         330 
Swept  from  the  black  horizon,  broad  descends 
In  one  continuous  flood.     Still  overhead 
The  mingling  tempest  weaves  its  gloom,  and  still 
The  deluge  deepens  ;  till  the  fields  around 
Lie  sunk  and  flatted  in  the  sordid  wave.  335 

.Sudden  the  ditches  swell ;  the  meadows  swim. 
Red,  from  the  hills,  innumerable  streams 
Tumultuous  roar ;  and  high  above  its  banks 
The  river  lift ;  before  whose  rushing  tide, 
Herds,  flocks,  and  harvests,  cottages,  and  swains,  340 

Roll  mingled  down  :  all  that  the  winds  had  spared 
In  one  wild  moment  ruin'd  ;  the  big  hopes 
And  well-earn'd  treasures  of  the  painful  year. 
Fled  to  some  eminence,  the  husbandman, 
Helpless,  beholds  the  miserable  wreck  345 

Driving  along ;  his  drowning  ox  at  once 
Descending,  with  his  labors  scatter'd  round, 
He  sees  ;  and  instant  o'er  his  shivering  thought 
Comes  Winter  unprovided,  and  a  train 
Of  claimant  children  dear.     Ye  masters,  then,  350 

Be  mindful  of  the  rough  laborious  hand 


J 


AUTUMN.  215 

I  That  sinks  you  soft  in  elegance  and  ease ; 
/   Be  mindful  of  those  limbs  in  russet  clad, 

Whose  toil  to  yours  is  warmth  and  graceful  pride ; 

And,  oh  !  be  mindful  of  that  sparing  board,  355 


\Which  covers  yours  with  luxury  profuse, 
Makes  your  glass  sparkle,  and  your  sense  rejoice ! 
Nor  cruelly  demand  what  the  deep  rains 
And  all  involving  winds  have  swept  away. 


SHOOTING    AND    HUNTING THEIR   BARBARITY. 

Here  the  rude  clamor  of  the  sportsman's  joy,  360 

The  gun  fast  thundering,  and  the  winded  horn, 
Would  tempt  the  Muse  to  sing  the  rural  game ; 
How  in  his  mid  career  the  spaniel  struck, 
Stiff,  by  the  tainted  gale,  with  open  nose, 
Outstretch'd,  and  finely  sensible,  draws  full,  365 

Fearful,  and  cautious,  on  the  latent  prey ; 
As  in  the  sun  the  circling  covey  bask 
Their  varied  plumes,  and,  watchful  every  way, 
Through  the  rough  stubble  turn  the' secret  eye. 
Caught  in  the  meshy  snare,  in  vain  they  beat  370 

360.  When  the  rain  ceases,  and  the  sky  clears,  the  poet  sends  to  the 
fields  the  hunter  and  his  noisy  pack ;  but  while  he  surrenders  to  him  the 
healthy  but  cruel  sports  of  the  chase,  he  forbids  the  gentler  sex  (570- 
608).— C. 

370.  Meshy  snare  :  Snare  formed  of  net-work  to  catch  birds.  Covey  is 
a  small  flock  of  birds.  Upon  the  mode  of  catching  birds  and  upon  its 
moral  aspects,  Mrs.  Ellis  observes  : — There  is  a  scene  exhibited  every  day 
throughout  the  summer  months,  in  the  outskirts  of  London,  which  it  is 
possible  to  contemplate  until  the  mind  is  filled  with  misanthropy,  and  we 
learn  to  loathe  and  shun  our  own  species.  In  fields  sufficiently  remote  from 
the  city  to  admit  of  their  being  the  resort  of  birds,  men  are  accustomed  to 
station  themselves  with  a  trap  and  snare,  in  order  to  obtain  a  supply  of 
singing  birds  for  the  London  markets.  The  trap  is  a  large  net,  so  contrived 
that  it  can  be  drawn  up  in  a  moment :  the  snare  is  a  little  chirping  bird, 
tied  fast  to  the  end  of  a  pliant  stick,  which  rebounds  with  the  flutter  of 
its  wings,  and  thus  the  bird  alternately  rising  and  sinking  has  something 


216  AUTUMN. 

Their  idle  wings,  entangled  more  and  more : 
Nor  on  the  surges  of  the  boundless  air, 
Though  borne  triumphant,  are  they  safe  :  the  gun, 
Glanced  just  and  sudden  from  the  fowler's  eye, 
O'ertakes  their  sounding  pinions  ;  and  again,  375 

Immediate,  brings  them,  from  the  towering  wing, 
Dead  to  the  ground  ;  or  drives  them  wide  dispersed, 
Wounded,  and  wheeling  various,  down  the  wind. 
These  are  not  subjects  for  the  peaceful  Muse, 
'    Nor  will  she  stain  with  such  her  spotless  song  ;  380 

Then  most  delighted,  when  she  social  sees 
The  whole  mix'd  animal  creation  round, 
Alive  and  happy.     'Tis  not  joy  to  her, 
1  jThis  falsely  cheerful,  barbarous  game  of  death, 
5    \This  rage  of  pleasure,  which  the  restless  youth  885 

Awakes,  impatient,  with  the  gleaming  morn ; 
When  beasts  of  prey  retire,  that  all  night  long, 
Urged  by  necessity,  had  ranged  the  dark, 
As  if  their  conscious  ravage  shunn'd  the  light, 
Ashamed.,    Not  so  the  steady  tyrant  man,  390 

Who,  with  the  thoughtless  insolence  of  power 
Inflamed,  bsyond  the  most  infuriate  wrath 
Of  the  worst  monster  that  e'er  roam'd  the  waste, 


the  appearance  of  dancing  at  will  upon  the  light  and  buoyant  spray.  Tho 
man.  the  monarch  of  creation,  all  the  while  crouches  on  the  ground  to 
watch  his  prey,  and  when  one  little  sufferer  has  by  its  fruitless  struggles 
so  well  mimicked  the  movements  of  a  joyous  flight  as  to  allure  its  fellow- 
victims  into  the  snare,  the  fatal  knot  is  drawn ;  the  man  chooses  out  from 
the  number  the  sweetest  songsters,  and  after  depositing  them  separately 
in  an  immense  number  of  little  cages,  brought  with  him  for  the  purpose, 
they  are  conveyed  to  the  market,  purchased,  and  made  miserable  during 
the  rest  of  their  lives,  for  the  delectation  of  London  ears,  and  the  benefit 
of  society  in  general. 

379,  <fec.  Some  remarks  are  made  (167-176)  on  the  benevolence  of 
Thomson's  disposition.  We  have  here  another  exquisite  exhibition  of  the 
same  amiable  trait,  which  deserves  to  be  imitated  as  well  as  admired. 
His  indignation  at  the  cruelties  of  the  chase  is  forcibly  expressed. 


AUTUMN.  217 

For  sport  alone  pursues  the  cruel  chase, 

Amid  the  beamings  of  the  gentle  days.  395 

Upbraid,  ye  ravening  tribes,  our  wanton  rage, 

For  hunger  kindles  you,  and  lawless  want ; 

But  lavish  fed,  in  Nature's  bounty  roll'd, 

To  joy  at  anguish,  and  delight  in  blood, 

Is  what  your  horrid  bosoms  never  knew.  400 

Poor  is  the  triumph  o'er  the  timid  hare  ! 
Scared  from  the  corn,  and  now  to  some  lone  seat 
Retired  ;  the  rushy  fen  ;  the  ragged  furze, 
Stretch'd  o'er  the  stony  heath  ;  the  stubble  chapt ; 
The  thistly  lawn  ;  the  thick-entangled  broom  ;  405 

Of  the  same  friendly  hue,  the  wither'd  fern ; 
The  fallow  ground  laid  open  to  the  sun, 
>-  Concoctjve  ;  and  the  nodding  sandy  bank, 
Hung  o'er  the  mazes  of  the  mountain  brook. 
Vain  is  her  best  precaution  ;  though  she  sits  410 

403.  Ragged  furze :  The  furze,  or  whin,  is  a  thorny  evergreen  shrub, 
quite  common  in  the  plains  and  on  the  hills  of  Great  Britain.  It  bears 
a  beautiful  yellow  flower. 

408.  Concoctive :  Denoting  the  influence  which  the  sun  exerts  to  ren- 
der the  fallow  ground  productive. 

410-18.  Professor  Wilson  of  Edinburgh,  the  philosopher,  the  critic,  the 
poet,  the  sportsman  of  Scotland,  gives  this  lively  picture  of  the  hare  : — 
One  often  hears  of  a  cunning  old  fox ;  but  the  cunningest  old  fox  is  a 
simpleton  to  the  most  guileless  young  hare.  What  deceit  in  every  double  ! 
What  calculation  in  every  squat !  Of  what  far  more  complicated  than 
Cretan  labyrinth  is  the  creature,  now  hunted  for  the  first  time,  sitting  in 
the  centre  !  a-listening  the  baffled  roar  !  Now  into  the  pool  she  plunges 
to  free  herself  from  the  fatal  scent  that  lures  on  death.  Now  down  the 
torrent  course  she  runs  and  leaps,  to  cleanse  it  from  her  poor  paws,  fur- 
protected  from  the  sharp  flints  that  lame  the  fiends  that  so  sorely  beset 
her,  till  many  limp  along  in  their  own  blood.  Now  along  the  coping  of 
stone  walls  she  crawls  and  scrambles  ;  and  now  ventures  from  the  wood 
along  the  frequented  high  road,  heedless  of  danger  from  the  front,  so  that 
she  may  escape  the  horrid  growling  in  the  rear.  Now  into  the  pretty 
little  garden  of  the  wayside,  or  even  the  village  cot,  she  creeps,  as  if  to 
implore  protection  from  the  innocent  children  or  the  nursing  mother.  Yes,, 
she  will  even  seek  refuge  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  cradle. 

10 


218  AUTUMN. 

Conceal'd,  with  folded  ears,  unsleeping  eyes, 

By  Nature  raised  to  take  the  horizon  in, 

And  head  couch'd  close  betwixt  her  hairy  feet, 

In  act  to  spring  away.     The  scented  dew 

Betrays  her  early  labyrinth  ;  and  deep,  415 

In  scatter'd,  sullen  openings,  far  behind, 

With  every  breeze  she  hears  the  coming  storm. 

But  nearer,  and  more  frequent,  as  it  loads 

The  sighing  gale,  she  springs  amazed,  and  all 

The  savage  soul  of  game  is  up  at  once  :  420 

The  pack  full  opening,  various  ;  the  shrill  horn, 

Resounded  from  the  hills  ;  the  neighing  steed, 

Wild  for  the  chase  ;  and  the  loud  hunters'  shout ; 

O'er  a  weak,  harmless,  flying  creature,  all 

Mix'd  in  mad  tumult  and  discordant  joy.  425 

The  stag,  too,  singled  from  the  herd,  where  long 
He  ranged  the  branching  monarch  of  the  shades, 
Before  the  tempest  drives.     At  first,  in  speed 
He,  sprightly,  puts  his  faith  ;  and,  roused  by  fear, 
Gives  all  his  swift  aerial  soul  to  flight.  430 

Against  the  breeze  he  darts,  that  way  the  more 
To  leave  the  lessening,  murderous  cry  behind. 
Deception  short !  though  fleeter  than  the  winds 
Blown  o'er  the  keen-air'd  mountain  by  the  north, 
He  bursts  the  thickets,  glances  through  the  glades,        435 
And  plunges  deep  into  the  wildest  wood ; 
*  If  slow,  yet  sure,  adhesivejp  the  track, 
Hot  steaming,  up  behind  him  come  again 
Th'  inhuman  rout,  and  from  the  shady  depth 
Expel  him,  circling  through  his  every  shift.  440 

He  sweeps  the  forest  oft ;  and  sobbing  sees   / 

j 
412.  Raised,  <fcc. :  The  eye  of  the  hare  is  remarkably  prominent,  so  that 

it  is  fitted  to  take  in  a  large  compass  of  view — to  discover  objects  behind 

as  well  as  before. 

439.  Rout :  Pack  of  hounds. 


AUTUMN.  219 

The  glades,  mild  op'ning  to  the  golden  day ; 
Where,  in  kind  contest,  with  his  butting  friends 
He  wont  to  struggle,  or  his  loves  enjoy. 
Oft  in  the  full-descending  flood  he  tries  445 

To  lose  the  scent,  and  lave  his  burning  sides : 
Oft  seeks  the  herd ;  the  watchful  herd,  alarm'd, 
With  selfish  care  avoid  a  brother's  woe. 
What  shall  he  do?     His  once  so  vivid  nerves, 
So  full  of  buoyant  spirit,  now  no  more  450 

Inspire  the  course ;  but  fainting,  breathless  toil, 
^  Sick,  seizes  on  his  heart.     He  stands  at  bay, 
And  puts  his  last  weak  refuge  in  despair. 
The  big  round  tears  run  down  his  dappled  face ;  j 
He  groans  in  anguish;  while  the  growling  pack,  455 

Blood-happy,  hang  at  his  fair  jutting  chest, 
And  mark  his  beauteous  checker'd  sides  with  gore. 

Of  this  enough.     But  if  the  sylvan  youth, 
Whose  fervent  blood  boils  into  violence, 
Must  have  the  chase  ;  behold,  despising  flight,  460 

The  roused-up  lion,  resolute  and  slow, 
Advancing  full  on  the  protended  spear 
And  coward-band,  that  circling  wheel  aloof. 
Slunk  from  the  cavern  and  the  troubled  wood, 
See  the  grim  wolf;  on  him  his  shaggy  foe  465 

Vindictive  fix,  and  let  the  ruffian  die : 
Or,  growling  horrid,  as  the  brindled  boar 
Grins  fell  destruction,  to  the  monster's  heart 
Let  the  dart  lighten  from  the  nervous  arm.  ^ 

THE    FOX-HUNT. 

These  Britain  knows  not ;  give,  ye  Britons,  then         470 
Your  sportive  fury,  pitiless,  to  pour 

442.  Glades :  Open  or  cleared  spaces  in  a  forest. 


220  AUTUMN. 

Loose  on  the  nightly  robber  of  the  fold. 

Him,  from  his  craggy  winding  haunts  unearth'd, 

Let  all  the  thunder  of  the  chase  pursue. 

Throw  the  broad  ditch  behind  you ;  o'er  the  hedge        475 

470-496.  Though  we  have  here  an  exact  picture  of  fox-hunting,  the 
favorite  sport  of  Great  Britain,  it  may  gratify  some  readers  to  contem- 
plate a  larger  picture,  drawn  by  Prof.  Wilson,  the  Christopher  North  of 
Blackwood : 

"  Well,  do  you  know,  that  after  all  you  have  said,  Mr.  North,  I  cannot 
understand  the  passion  and  the  pleasure  of  fox-hunting  ?  It  seems  to  me 
both  cruel  and  dangerous." 

"  Cruelty !  Is  there  cruelty  in  laying  the  rein  on  the  necks  of  their 
horses  and  delivering  them  up  to  their  high  condition — for  every  throb- 
bing vein  is  visible — at  the  first  full  burst  of  that  maddening  cry,  and 
letting  loose  to  their  delight  the  living  thunderbolts  ?  Danger  ?  What 
danger  but  of  breaking  their  own  legs,  necks,  or  backs,  and  those  of  their 
riders!  What  though  it  be  but  a  smallish,  reddish-brown,  sharp-nosed 
animal,  with  pricked-up  ears,  and  passionately  fond  of  poultry,  that  they 
pursue  ?  After  the  first  tally-ho,  Reynard  is  rarely  seen,  till  he  is  run  in 
upon — once  perhaps  in  the  whole  run,  skirting  a  wood,  or  crossing  a  com- 
mon. It  is  an  idea  that  is  pursued,  on  a  whirlwind  of  horses  to  a  storm 
of  canine  music,  worthy  both  of  the  largest  lion  that  ever  leaped  among 
a  band  of  Moors,  sleeping  at  midnight  by  an  extinguished  fire  on  the 
African  sands.  There  is,  we  verily  believe  it,  nothing  foxy  in  the  fancy 
of  one  man  in  all  that  glorious  field  of  three  hundred.  Once  off  and 
away — while  wood  and  welkin  ring — and  nothing  is  felt — nothing  is 
imaged  in  that  hurricane  flight,  but  scorn  of  all  obstructions,  dikes,  ditches, 
drains,  brooks,  palings,  canals,  rivers,  and  all  the  impediments  reared  in  the 
way  of  so  many  rejoicing  madmen,  by  nature,  art,  and  science,  in  an  inclosed, 
cultivated,  civilized,  and  Christian  country.  There  they  go — prince  and 
peer,  baronet  and  squire — the  nobility  and  gentry  of  England,  the  flower 
of  the  men  of  the  earth,  each  on  such  steed  as  Pollux  never  reined,  nor 
Philip's  warlike  son.  Hedges,  trees,  groves,  gardens,  orchards,  woods, 
farm-houses,  huts,  halls,  mansions,  palaces,  spires,  steeples,  towns,  and 
temples,  all  go  wavering  by,  each  demi-god  seeing,  or  seeing  them  not,  as 
his  winged  steed  skims  or  labors  along,  to  the  swelling  or  sinking  music. 
Crash  goes  the  timber  of  the  five-barred  gate ;  away  over  the  ears  flies 
the  ex-rough  rider  in  a  surprising  somerset ;  after  a  succession  of  stumbles, 
down  is  the  gallant  gray  on  knees  and  nose,  making  sad  work  among  the 
fallow.  *  *  *  *  l  Every  man  for  himself,  and  God  for  us  all,'  is 
the  devout  and  ruling  apothegm  of  the  day.  If  death  befall,  what  wonder  ? 
since  horse  and  man  are  mortal ;  but  death  loves  better  a  wide  soft  bed, 
with  quiet  curtains  and  darkened  windows  in  a  still  room,  the  clergyman 


ATJTUMH. 


High  bound,  resistless  ;  nor  the  deep 

Refuse,  but  through  the  shaking 

Pick  your  nice  way.     Into  the  perilous  flood 

Bear  fearless,  of  the  raging  instinct  full  ; 

And  as  you  ride  the  torrent,  to  the  banks  480 

Your  triumph  sound  sonorous,  running  round 

From  rock  to  rock,  in  circling  echoes  toss'd. 

Then  scale  the  mountains  to  their  woody  tops  ; 

Rush  down  the  dangerous  steep,  and  o'er  the  lawn, 

In  fancy  swallowing  up  the  space  between,  485 

Pour  all  your  speed  into  the  rapid  game. 

For  happy  he  !  who  tops  the  wheeling  chase  ; 

Has  every  maze  evolved,  and  every  guile 

Disclosed  ;  who  knows  the  merits  of  the  pack  ; 

Who  saw  the  villain  seized,  and  dying  hard,  490 

Without  complaint,  though  by  a  hundred  mouths 

Relentless  torn  :  0  glorious  he,  beyond 

His  daring  peers  !  when  the  retreating  horn    \ 

Calls  them  to  ghostly  halls  of  gray  renown,     \ 

With  woodland  honors  graced  ;  the  fox's  fur,  *  495 

Depending  decent  from  the  roof;  and  spread 

Round  the  drear  walls,  with  antic  figures  fierce, 


in  the  one  corner  with  his  prayers,  and  the  physician  in  another  with  his 
pills,  making  assurance  doubly  sure,  and  preventing  all  possibility  of  the 
dying  Christian's  escape.  Let  oak  branches  smite  the  too  slowly  stooping 
skull,  or  rider's  back  not  timely  levelled  with  his  steed's  ;  let  faithless 
bank  give  way  and  bury  in  the  brook  ;  let  hidden  drain  yield  to  fore-feet 
and  work  a  sudden  wreck  ;  *  *  *  *  yet,  '  without  stop  or  stay 
the  hunter-train  flows  on  ;  for  the  music  grows  fiercer  and  more  savage, 
—  lo  !  all  that  remains  of  the  pack,  in  far  more  dreadful  madness  than 
hydrophobia,  leaping  out  of  their  skins,  under  insanity  from  the  scent, 
now  as  strong  as  stink,  for  Vulpes  can  hardly  now  make  a  crawl  of  it  ; 
and  ere  he,  they,  whipper-in,  or  any  one  of  the  other  three  demoniacs, 
have  time  to  look  in  one  another's  splashed  faces,  he  is  torn  into  a  thou- 
sand pieces,  gobbled  up  in  the  general  growl  ;  and  snug,  and  smooth,  and 
dry,  and  warm,  and  cozey,  as  he  was  an  hour  and  twenty-five  minutes 
ago  exactly,  in  his  furze-bush  in  the  cover,  —  he  is  now  piece-meal  in  about 
thirty  distinct  stomachs  ;  and  is  he  not,  pray,  well  off  for  sepulture  ?" 


222  AUTUMN. 

The  stag's  large  front.     He  then  is  loudest  heard, 
When  the  night  staggers  with  severer  toils, 
With  feats  Thessalian  Centaurs  never  knew,  500 

And  their  repeated  wonders  shake  the  dome. 


THE    FROLI.CKSOME    SUPPER. 

But  first  the  fuel'd  chimney  blazes  wide ;         \ 
The  tankards  foam  ;  and  the  strong  table  groans  \ 
Beneath  the  smoking  sirloin,  stretch'd  immense 
From  side  to  side ;  in  which,  with  desperate  knife,         505 
They  deep  incision  make,  and  talk  the  while 
Of  England's  glory,  ne'er  to  be  defaced 
While  hence  they  borrow  vigor :  or  amain 
Into  the  pasty  plunged,  at  intervals, 

If  stomach  keen  can  intervals  allow,  510 

Relating  all  the  glories  of  the  chase. 
Then  sated  Hunger  bids  his  brother  Thirst 
Produce  the  mighty  bowl ;  the  mighty  bowl,        X 
S well'd  high  with  fiery  juice,  steams  liberal  round 
A  potent  gale,  delicious  as  the  breath  515 

Of  Maia  to  the  love-sick  shepherdess, 
On  violets  diffused,  while  soft  she  hears 
Her  panting  shepherd  stealing  to  her  arms. 
Nor  wanting  is  the  brown  October,  drawn, 
Mature  and  perfect,  from  his  dark  retreat  520 

Of  thirty  years  ;  and  now  his  honest  front 
Flames  in  the  light  refulgent,  not  afraid 
E'en  with  the  vineyard's  best  produce  to  vie. 

500.  Thessalian  Centaurs:  Fabulous  beings,  half  man,  half  horse,  re- 
siding in  Thessaly.  There  is  a  legend  of  a  marriage-feast  attended  by 
the  Centaurs  and  Lapithae,  at  which,  under  the  influence  of  wine,  great 
disorder  and  violence  occurred,  and  several  were  slain. 

516.  Maia:  A  Latin  name  for  May. 

519.  Brown  October:  The  brown  product  of  that  month.  Cider,  proba- 
bly, is  meant.  /".- 


AUTUMN.  223 

-    To  cheat  the  thirsty  moments,  Whist  awhile 

Walks  his  dull  round,  beneath  a  cloud  of  smoke,  525 

Wreathed,  fragrant,  from  the  pipe :  or  the  quick  dice, 

In  thunder  leaping  from  the  box,  awake 

The  sounding  gammon ;  while  romp-loving  miss 

Is  haul'd  about  in  gallantry  robust. 

At  last,  these  puling  idlenesses  laid  530 

j  Aside,  frequent  and  full,  the  dry  divan 
Close  in  firm  circle ;  and  set,  ardent,  in 
For  serious  drinking.  Nor  evasion  sly, 

I  Nor  sober  shift  is  to  the  puking  wretch 
Indulged  apart ;  but  earnest,  brimming  bowls  535 

Lave  every  soul,  the  table  floating  round, 
And  pavement,  faithless  to  the  fuddled  foot. 
Thus  as  they  swim  in  mutual  swill,  the  talk,. 
Vociferous  at  once  from  twenty  tongues,     f 
Reels  fast  from  theme  to  theme  ;  from  horses,  hounds,     540 
To  church  or  mistress,  politics  or  ghost, 
In  endless  mazes,  intricate,  perplex'd. 
Meantime,  with  sudden  interruption,  loud, 
Th'  impatient  catch  bursts  from  the  joyous  heart : 
That  moment  touched  is  every  kindred  soul ;  545 

And,  opening  in  a  full-mouthed  cry  of  joy, 
The  laugh,  the  slap,  the  jocund  curse  go  round ;  *"  '    - 
While,  from  their  slumbers  shook,  the  kennel'd  hounds 
Mix  in  the  music  of  the  day  again. 

As  when  the  tempest,  that  has  vex'd  the  deep,  550 

The  dark  night  long,  with  fainter  murmurs  falls ; 
So  gradual  sinks  their  mirth.     Their  feeble  tongues, 

528.  Gammon:  The  name  of  a  game  played  with  dice.  It  is  usually 
called  backgammon. 

531.  Dry  divan:  Thirsty  company.  The  term  divan  is  most  strictly 
appropriate  to  the  Turkish  council  of  state ;  hence  humorously  applied, 
as  here,  to  a  council  of  boisterous  and  hard  drinkers. 

544.  Catch :  A  piece  sung  by  three  or  lour  voices,  one  of  which  leads, 
and  the  others  follow  in  singing  the  same  notes. 


224  AUTUMN. 

Unable  to  take  up  the  cumbrous  word, 

Lie  quite  dissolved.     Before  their  maudlin  eyes, 

Seen  dim  and  blue,  the  double  tapers  dance, 


555 


Like  the  sun  wading  through  the  misty  sky. 

Then,  sliding  soft,  they  drop.     Confused  above, 

Glasses  and  bottles,  pipes  and  gazetteers, 

As  if  the  table  e'en  itself  was  drunk, 

Lie  a  wet  broken  scene ;  and  wide,  below,  560 

Is  heap'd  the  social  slaughter ;  where  astride, 

The  lubber  Power  in  filthy  triumph  sits, 

Slumb'rous,  inclining  still  from  side  to  side, 

And  steeps  them  drench'd  in  potent  sleep  till  morn. 

Perhaps  some  doctor  of  tremendous  paunch,  565 

Awful  and  deep,  a  black  abyss  of  drink, 

Outlives  them  all ;  and  from  his  buried  flock 

Retiring,  full  of  rumination  sad, 

Laments  the  weakness  of  these  latter  times. 


J     EMPLOYMENTS    SUITABLE    TO    THE    WOMEN    OF    BRITAIN. 

But  if  the  rougher  sex  by  this  fierce  sport  570 

Is  hurried  wild,  let  not  such  horrid  joy 
E'er  stain  the  bosom  of  the  British  fair. 
Far  be  the  spirit  of  the  chase  from  them ! 
Uncomely  courage,  unbeseeming  skill ; 
To  spring  the  fence,  to  rein  the  prancing  steed ;  5*75 

The  cap,  the  whip,  the  masculine  attire ; 
In  which  they  roughen  to  the  sense,  and  all 
The  winning  softness  of  their  sex  is  lost. 
In  them  'tis  graceful  to  dissolve  at  woe ; 
With  every  motion,  every  word,  to  wave  580 

654.  Maudlin :  Stupid,  swollen. 

562.  Lubber  Power :  The  besotting,  stupefying  power.  Intemperance : 
or,  the  power  that  makes  lubbers — that  is,  lazy,  idle,  good-for-nothing 
fellows,  such  as  Thomson  here  so  graphically  portrays. 


AUTUMN.  225 

Quick  o'er  the  kindling  cheek  the  ready  blush; 

And  from  the  smallest  violence  to  shrink 

Unequal,  then  the  loveliest  in  their  fears ; 

And  by  this  silent  adulation  soft, 

To  their  protection  more  engaging  man.  585 

0  may  their  eyes  no  miserable  sight, 

Save  weeping  lovers,  see !  a  nobler  game, 

Through  love's  enchanting  wiles  pursued,  yet  fled, 

In  chase  ambiguous.     May  their  tender  limbs 

Float  in  the  loose  simplicity  of  dress !  590 

And,  fashion'd  all  to  harmony,  alone 

Know  they  to  seize  the  captivated  soul, 

In  rapture  warbled  from  love-breathing  lips  ; 

To  teach  the  lute  to  languish  ;  with  smooth  step 

Disclosing  motion  in  its  every  charm,  595 

To  swim  along,  and  swell  the  mazy  dance ; 

To  train  the  foliage  o'er  the  snowy  lawn ; 

To  guide  the  pencil,  turn  the  tuneful  page  ; 

To  lend  new  flavor  to  the  fruitful  year, 

And  heighten  Nature's  dainties  :  in  their  race  600 

To  rear  their  graces  into  second  life ; 

To  give  society  its  highest  taste  ; 

Well- order'd  home  man's  best  delight  to  make  ; 
.  And  by  submissive  wisdom,  modest  skill, 

With  every  gentle,  care-eluding  art,  605 

jTo  raise  the  virtues,  animate  the  bliss, 
] And  sweeten  all  the  toils  of  human  life : 

This  be  the  female  dignity  and  praise.    __ 
Ye  swains,  now  hasten  to  the  hazel-bank; 

Wnere,  down  yon  dale,  the  wildly  winding  brook  610 

Falls  hoarse  from  steep  to  steep.     In  close  array, 

Fit  for  the  thickets  and  the  tangling  shrub, 

Ye  virgins,  come.     For  you  their  latest  song 

The  woodlands  raise  ;  the  clustering  nuts  for  you 

The  lover  finds  amid  the  secret  shade  ;  615 

10* 


226  AUTUMN. 

And,  where  they  burnish  on  the  topmost  bough, 

With  active  vigor  crushes  down  the  tree  ; 

Or  shakes  them  ripe  from  the  resigning  husk, 

A  glossy  shower,  and  of  an  ardent  brown, 

As  are  the  ringlets  of  Melinda's  hair :  620 

Melinda  !  form'd  with  every  grace  complete  ; 

Yet  these  neglecting,  above  beauty  wise, 

And  far  transcending  such  a  vulgar  praise. 

THE    FRUIT    ORCHARD. 

Hence  from  the  busy,  joy-resounding  fields, 
In  cheerful  error,  let  us  tread  the  maze  625 

Of  Autumn,  unconfined ;  and  taste,  revived, 
The  breath  of  orchard  big  with  bending  fruit. 
Obedient  to  the  breeze  and  beating  ray, 
From  the  deep-loaded  bough  a  mellow  shower 
Incessant  melts  away.     The  juicy  pear  630 

Lies  in  a  soft  profusion  scatter'd  round. 
A  various  sweetness  swells  the  gentle  race, 
By  Nature's  all-refining  hand  prepared, 
Of  tempered  sun,  and  water,  earth,  and  air, 
In  ever-changing  composition  rnix'd.  635 

Such,  falling  frequent  through  the  chiller  night, 
Tlje  fragrant  stores,  the  wide-projected  heaps 
Of  apples,  which  the  lusty-handed  year, 
<?v-  Innumerous,  o'er  the  blushing  orchard  shakes. 

A  various  spirit,  fresh,  delicious,  keen,  640 

7  Dwells  in  their  gelid  pores  ;  and,  active,  points 
The  piercing  cider  for  the  thirsty  tongue  ; 
Thy  native  theme,  and  boon  inspirer  too, 
Philips,  Pomona's  bard,  the  second  thou 

625.  Error :  Wandering. 

644.  Philips :    John  Philips   entered  Oxford  University  in  1694,  be- 
came in  1703  author  of  "  The  Splendid  Shilling,"  a  burlesque  poem,  in 


AUTUMN. 


227 


Who  nobly  durst,  in  rhyme-unfetter 'd  verse,  645 

With  British  freedom  sing  the  British  song  ; 

How,  from  Silurian  vats,  high-sparkling  wines 

Foam  in  transparent  floods  ;  some  strong,  to  cheer 

The  wintry  revels  of  the  laboring  hind  ; 

And  tasteful  some,  to  cool  the  summer  hours.  650 

DODDINGTON'S  COUNTRY-SEAT. 

In  this  glad  season,  while  his  sweetest  beams 
The  sun  sheds  equal  o'er  the  meeken'd  day ; 
Oh,  lose  me  in  the  green  delightful  walks 
Of,  Doddington,  thy  seat,  serene  and  plain ; 
Where  simple  Nature  reigns  ;  and  every  view,  655 

f    Diffusive^  spreads  the  pure  Dorsetian  downs, 

In  boundless  prospect ;  yonder  shagg'd  with  wood, 
Here  rich  with  harvest,  and  there  white  with  flocks ! 
Meantime  the  grandeur  of  thy  lofty  dome, 
Far  splendid,  seizes  on  the  ravish'd  eye.  660 

imitation  of  the  style  of  Milton,  "  rhyme-unfettered  verse.'1  But  his  best 
performance,  in  the  same  verse,  is  a  poem  on  Cider,  and  which  probably 
led  Thomson  to  designate  him  Pomona's  bard,  as  she  was  the  Pagan  god- 
dess of  fruits  and  harvests.  He  also  describes  him  as  the  first  since  Mil- 
ton who  ventured  to  write  in  blank  verse.  Philips  thus  commences  his 
Poem  on  Cider : 

What  soil  the  apple  loves,  what  care  is  due 
To  orchats,  timeliest  when  to  press  the  fruits, 
Thy  gift,  Pomona,  in  Miltonian  verse 
Adventurous  I  presume  to  sing ;  of  verse 
Nor  skilled,  nor  studious ;  but  my  native  soil 
Invites  me,  and  the  theme  as  yet  unsung. 

647.  By  Silurian  vats,  are  meant  those  in  the  ancient  British  kingdom 
of  the  Silures,  answering  to  southern  Wales,  and  a  part  of  England  con- 
tiguous to  it. 

654.  Doddington  :  For  an  account  of  this  gentleman  turn  back  to  note 
on  (29)  "  Summer." 

656.  Dorsetian  downs :  The  extensive  and  naked  hilly  lands  in  the 
southern  part  of  Dorsetshire,  well  adapted  for  the  pasturage  of  sheep. 


228  AUTUMN. 

New  beauties  rise  with  each  revolving  day  ; 

New  columns  swell ;  and  still  the  fresh  Spring  finds 

New  plants  to  quicken,  and  new  groves  to  green, 

Full  of  thy  genius  all  ?  the  Muses'  seat ; 

Where,  in  the  secret  bower  and  winding  walk,  665 

For  virtuous  Young  and  thee  they  twine  the  bay. 

Here  wandering  oft,  fired  with  the  restless  thirst -^^ 

Of  thy  applause,  I  solitary  court 

Th'  inspiring  breeze,  and  meditate  the  book 

Of  Nature  ever  open  ;  aiming  thence,  6'70 

Warm  from  the  heart,  to  learn  the  moral  song. 

Here,  as  I  steal  along  the  sunny  wall, 

Where  Autumn  basks,  with  fruit  empurpled  deep, 

My  pleasing  theme  continual  prompts  my  thought : 

Presents  the  downy  peach  ;  the  shining  plum  ;  675 

The  ruddy,  fragrant  nectarine  ;  and  dark, 

Beneath  his  ample  leaf,  the  luscious  fig. 

The  vine  too  here  her  curling  tendrils  shoots, 

Hangs  out  her  clusters,  glowing  to  the  south, 

And  scarcely  wishes  for  a  warmer  sky.  680 

THE    VINEYARD. 

Turn  we  a  moment  Fancy's  rapid  flight 
To  vigorous  soils  and  climes  of  fair  extent ; 
Where,  by  the  potent  sun  elated  high, 
/  The  vineyard  swells  refulgent  on  the  day, 
Spreads  o'er  the  vale,  or  up  the  mountain  climbs,  685 

Profuse  ;  and  drinks  amid  the  sunny  rocks, 


666.  Virtuous  Young :  The  distinguished  Edward  Young,  author  of  the 
immortal  "  Night  Thoughts,"  a  sublime  and  religious  Poem,  worthy  of  the 
epithet  by  which  he  is  here  described.  He  died,  at  an  advanced  age,  in 
1765.  For  a  full  account  of  him  I  beg  leave  to  refer  to  my  recent  edition 
of  that  Poem. 

To  twine  the  bay,  is  to  prepare  the  laurel  crown,  as  an  emblem  of  po^fc 
excellence  and  superiority. 


AUTUMN.  229 

From  cliff  to  cliff  increased,  the  heighten'd  blaze. 

Low  bend  the  weighty  boughs.     The  clusters  slear, 

Half  through  the  foliage  seen,  or  ardent  flame, 

Or  shine  transparent ;  while  perfection  breathes  690 

White  o'er  the  j/urgent  film  the  living  dew. 

As  thus  they  brighten  with  exalted  juice, 

Touch'd  into  flavor  by  the  mingling  ray  ; 

The  rural  youth  and  virgins  o'er  the  field, 

Each  fond  for  each  to  cull  th*  autumnal  prime,  695 

Exulting  rove,  and  speak  the  vintage  nigh. 

Then  comes  the  crushing  swain  ;  the  country  floats, 

And  foSnis  unbounded  with  the  mashy  flood  ; 

That,  by  degrees  fermented  and  refined, 

Round  the  raised  nations  pours  the  cup  of  joy  :  700 

The  claret  smooth,  red  as  the  lip  we  press 

In  sparkling  fancy,  while  we  drain  the  bowl ; 

The  mellow-tasted  burgundy  ;  and  quick 

As  is  the  wit  it  gives,  the  gay  champagne. 


AUTUMNAL    FOGS,    AND    ORIGIN    OF    SPRINGS    AND    RIVERS. 

Now,  by  the  cool  declining  year  condensed,  705 

Descend  the  copious  exhalations,  check'd 
As  up  the  middle  sky  unseen  they  stole, 
And  roll  the  doubling  fogs  around  the  hill. 
No  more  the  mountain,  horrid,  vast,  sublime, 
Who  pours  a  sweep  of  rivers  from  his  sides,  710 

And  high  between  contending  kingdoms  rears 
The  rocky  long  division,  fills  the  view 


690-1.  Perfection  gives  to  the  turgent  film  (the  swelling  skin)  a  whitish 
and  moist  appearance,  here  denominated  living  dew,  probably,  as  being 
the  result  of  organic  action. 

695.  Autumnal  prime  :  The  first  or  choicest  fruit  of  Autumn. 

697.  Crushing  swain :  The  hardy  man  whose  business  it  was  to  crush 
the  grapes  and  express  the  juice. 


230  AUTUMN. 

With  great  variety  ;  but  in  a  night 

Of  gathering  vapor,  from  the  baffled  sense, 

Sinks  dark  and  dreary.     Thence  expanding  far,  715 

The  huge  dusk,  gradual,  swallows  up  the  plain ; 

Vanish  the  woods ;  the  dim-seen  river  seems 

Sullen  and  slow,  to  roll  the  misty  wave. 

E'en  in  the  height  of  noon  oppress'd,  the  sun 

Sheds  weak  and  blunt  his  wide-refracted  ray ;  720 

Whence  glaring  oft,  with  many  a  broadened  orb, 

He  'frights  the  nations.     Indistinct  on  earth, 

Seen  through  the  turbid  air,  beyond  the  life 

Objects  appear  ;  and,  wilder'd,  o'er  the  waste* 

The  shepherd  stalks  gigantic.     Till  at  last  725 

Wreathed  dun  around,  in  deeper  circles  still 

Successive  closing,  sits  the  general  fog, 

Unbounded  o'er  the  world  ;  and,  mingling  thick, 

A  formless  gray  confusion  covers  all.* 

As  when  of  old  (so  sung  the  Hebrew  Bard)  730 

Light,  uncoil ected,  through  the  chaos  urged 

Its  infant  way  ;  nor  order  yet  had  drawn 

His  lovely  train  from  out  the  dubious  gloom. 

These  roving  mists  that  constant  now  begin 
To  smoke  along  the  hilly  country,  these,  735 

With  weighty  rains,  and  melted  Alpine  snows, 
The  mountain  cisterns  fill,  those  ample  stores 
Of  water,  scooped  among  the  hollow  rocks  ; 
Whence  gush  the  streams,  the  ceaseless  fountains  play, 
And  their  unfailing  wealth  the  rivers  draw.  740 

Some  sages  say,  that,  where  the  numerous  wave 
Forever  lashes  the  resounding  shore, 
Drill'd  through  the  sandy  stratum,  every  way, 
The  waters  with  the  sandy  stratum  rise  ; 
Amid  whose  angles  infinitely  strain' d,  745 

780.  Hebrew  Bard:  David. 


AUTUMN.  231 

They  joyful  leave  their  jaggy  salts  behind, 

And  clear  and  sweeten  as  they  soak  along. 

Nor  stops  the  restless  fluid,  mounting  still, 

Though  oft  amidst  th'  jrriguous  vale  it  springs  ; 

But  to  the  mountain  courted  by  the  sand,  750 

That  leads  it  darkling  on  in  faithful  maze, 

Far  from  the  parent  main,  it  boils  again 

Fresh  into  day ;  and  all  the  glittering  hill 

Is  bright  with  spouting  rills.     But  hence  this  vain 

Amusiye  dream  !  why  should  the  waters  love  755 

To  take  so  far  a  journey  to  the  hills, 

When  the  sweet  valleys  offer  to  their  toil 

Inviting  quiet  and  a  nearer  bed  ? 

Or,  if  by  blind  ambition  led  astray, 

They  must  aspire  ;  why  should  they  sudden  stop  760 

Among  the  broken  mountain's  rushy  dells, 

And,  ere  they  gain  its  highest  peak,  desert 

Th'  attractive  sand  that  charm'd  their  course  so  long  ? 

Besides,  the  hard  agglomerating  salts, 

The  spoil  of  ages,  would  impervious  choke  765 

Their  secret  channels  ;  or,  by  slow  degrees, 

High  as  the  hills  protrude  the  swelling  vales, 

Old  Ocean  too,  suck'd  through  the  porous  globe, 

Had  long  ere  now  forsook  his  horrid  bed, 

And  brought  Deucalion's  watery  times  again.  770 

Say  then,  where  lurk  the  vast  eternal  springs, 
That,  like  creating  Nature,  lie  conceal'd 
From  mortal  e)  e,  yet  with  their  lavish  stores 
Refresh  the  globe  and  all  its  joyous  tribes  ? 


770.  Deucalion  was  a  Thessalian  prince  in  the  fabulous  period  of  an- 
cient Greece,  in  whose  time  a  deluge  is  said  to  have  occurred,  against 
which  he  and  his  wife  were  provided  for  by  an  ark,  in  which  they  re- 
mained safely  until  the  deluge  ceased.  It  is  supposed  by  some  that  the 
tradition  of  the  Noachian  deluge,  recorded  in  the  Scriptures,  became  the 
basis  of  some  versions  of  this  story  of  Deucalion. 


232  AUTL'.AIX. 

0  thou  pervading  Genius,  given  to  man,  775 

To  trace  the  secrets  of  the  dark  abyss, 

O,  lay  the  mountains  bare  !  and  wide  display 

Their  hidden  structure  to  th'  astonish'd  view ! 

Strip  from  the  branching  Alps  their  piny  load ; 

he  huge  incumbrance  of  horrific  woods  780 

From  Asian  Taurus,  from  Imaus  stretch'd 
Athwart  the  roving  Tartar's  sullen  bounds  ! 
Give  opening  Hemus  to  my  searching  eye, 
And  high  Olympus  pouring  many  a  stream  ! 
0,  from  the  sounding  summits  of  the  north,  785 

The  Dorfrine  hills,  through  Scandinavia  roll'd 
To  farthest  Lapland  and  the  frozen  main ; 
From  lofty  Caucasus,  far  seen  by  those 
Who  in  the  Caspian  and  black  Euxine  toil ; 
From  cold  Riphean  rocks,  which  the  wild  Russ  790 

Believes  the  stony  girdle  of  the  world  ; 

781.  Asian  Taurus :  A  chain  of  mountains  extending  from  near  the 
western  shore  of  the  Archipelago  to  the  river  Euphrates.  The  Imaus  is 
a  continuation  of  the  former  range,  and  answers  to  the  modern  Himalaya. 

783.  Hemus  is  a  chain  of  high  -mountains  reaching  500  miles — from  the 
Gulf  of  Venice  to  the  Euxine,  or  Black  Sea.     Its  modern  name  is  Balcan. 

784.  Olymjnu :  A  range  separating  Thessaly  from  Macedonia.      The 
name  is  chiefly  applied  to  one  of  its  highest  peaks,  and  that  by  the  Grer 
cian  poets  was  assigned  to  the  gods  as  their  abode.    It  seems  to  rise  from 
the  sea,  and  hide  its  lofty  and  snowy  head  among  the  clouds. 

786.  J)orfrine  hills  :  The  range  of  mountains  separating-  Norway  from 
Sweden,  both  of  which  countries  and  the  adjacent  countries  were  anciently 
comprehended  in  the  name  of  Scandinavia.  The  more  modern  name  of 
this  range,  or  rather  of  a  part  of  it,  is  Dofrafial. 

788.  Caucasus  is  a  chain  of  mountains  beginning  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Cuban,  in  the  Black  Sea,  and  reaching  to  the  mouth  of  the  Kur,  in  the 
Caspian.  Its  tops  are  always  covered  with  snow  :  the  lower  parts  abound 
in  honey*  corn,  wine,  gum.  fruits,  hogs,  and  horned  cattle.  This  range  of 
mountains  is  occupied  by  seven  distinct  nations,  each  speaking  a  different 
language.  Those  best  known  are  the  Circassians  and  the  Georgians. 

790.  The  Russians  formerly  called  the  Riphean  Mountains  Weliki  Ca- 
menypays  ;  that  is,  The  Great  Stony  Girdle,  supposing  that  they  encom- 
passed the  entire  globe. 


AUTUMN.  233 

And  all  the  dreadful  mountaii^,  wrapp'd  in  storm, 
Whence  wide  Siberia  draws  Ker  lonely  floods ; 
0,  sweep  th'  eternal  snows  !     Hung  o'er  thp  deep,  V 
That  ever  works  beneath  his  sounding  base,  795 

Bid  Atlas,  propping  Heaven,  as  poets  feign, 
His  subterranean  wonders  spread  !     Unveil 
The  miny  caverns,  blazing  on  the  day, 
Of  Abyssinia's  cloud-compelling  cliffs, 
And  of  the  bending  Mountains  of  the  Moon !  800 

Overtopping  all  these  giant  sons  of  earth, 
Let  the  dire  Andes,  from  the  radiant  line 
Stretch'd  to  the  stormy  seas  that  thunder  round 
The  southern  pole,  their  hideous  deeps  unfold ! 
Amazing  scene  !  behold  !  the  glooms  disclose  ;  805 

I  see  the  rivers  in  their  infant  beds  ! 
Deep,  deep  I  hear  them  laboring  to  get  free. 
I  see  the  leaning  strata,  artful  ranged, 
The  gaping  fissures  to  receive  the  rains, 
The  melting  snows,  and  ever- dripping  fogs.  810 

Strew'd  bibulous  above  I  see  the  sands, 
The  pebbly  gravel  next,  the  layers  then 
Of  mingled  moulds,  of  more  retentive  earths, 
^  The  gutter'd  rocks  and  mazy-running  clefts ; 

That,  while  the  stealing  moisture  they  transmit,  815 

Retard  its  motion  and  forbid  its  waste. 
Beneath  th'  incessant  weeping  of  these  drains, 
I  see  the  rocky  siphons  stretch'd  immense, 
The  mighty  reservoirs  of  harden'd  chalk, 

796.  Atlas,  in  northern  Africa. 

798.  Cloud- compelling :  Cloud-collecting.  ^ 

800.  The  Mountains  of  the  Moon  are  loftier  than  Atlas,  and  extend 
from  Western  Africa  through  Abyssinia  to  the  Indian  Ocean.  Thomson, 
however,  evidently  considers  them  as  not  extending  so  far  east  as  Abys- 
sinia. 

811.  Bibulous :  The  sands  and  pebbly  gravel  are  thus  described  from 
the  property  which  they  have  of  absorbing,  or  drinking  in,  moisture. 


234  AUTUMX. 

Or  stiff  compacted  clay,  capacious  form'd.  820 

Overflowing  thence,  the  congregated  stores, 
The  crystal  treasures  of  the  liquid  world, 
Through  the  stirr'd  sands  a  bubbling  passage  burst, 
And  welling  out,  around  the  middle  steep, 
Or  from  the  bottoms  of  the  bosom'd  hills,  825 

In  pure  effusion  flow.     United,  thus, 
Th'  exhaling  sun,  the  vapor-burden'd  air, 
~r    The  ^gelidjmountains,  that  to  rain  condensed 
These  vapors  in  continual  current  draw, 
And  send  them,  o'er  the  fair-divided  earth,  830 

In  bounteous  rivers  to  the  deep  again, 
[   A  social  commerce  hold,  and  firm  support 
The  full  adjusted  harmony  of  things. 

MIGRATION    OF    BIRDS    TO  WARMER    CLIMATES. 

When  Autumn  scatters  his  departing  gleams, 
Warn'd  of  approaching  Winter,  gather'd,  play  835 

The  swallow-people  ;  and  toss'd  wide  around, 


833.  Adjusted  harmony  of  things  :  Dr.  Buckland,  in  his  Inaugural  Lec- 
ture, observes  : — In  the  whole  machinery  of  springs  and  rivers,  and  in  the 
apparatus  that  is  kept  in  action  for  their  duration,  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  a  system  of  curiously  constructed  hills  and  valleys,  receiving  their 
supply  occasionally  from  the  rains  of  heaven,  and  treasuring  it  up  in  their 
everlasting  storehouses,  to  be  dispensed  perpetually,  by  thousands  of  never- 
failing  fountains,  we  see  a  provision  not  less  striking  than  it  is  important. 
So,  also,  in  the  adjustment  of  the  relative  quantities  of  sea  and  land,  in 
such  due  proportions  as  to  supply  the  earth  by  constant  evaporation,  with- 
out diminishing  the  waters  of  the  ocean  ;  and  in  the  appointment  of  the 
atmosphere  to  be  the  vehicle  of  this  wonderful  and  unceasing  circulation  ; 
and  thus  separating  these  waters  from  their  native  salt  (which,  though 
of  the  highest  utility  to  preserve  the  purity  of  the  sea,  renders  them 
unfit  for  the  support  of  terrestrial  animals,  or  vegetables),  and  transmit- 
ting them  in  genial  showers  to  scatter  fertility  over  the  earth,  and  main- 
tain the  never-failing  reservoirs  of  those  springs  and  rivers  by  which 
they  are  again  returned  to  mix  with  their  parent  ocean  ;  in  all  these  cir- 
cumstances, we  find  such  evidence  of  nicely  balanced  adaptation  of  means 


AUTUMN.  235 

O'er  the  calm  sky,  in  conyaLatipn  swift, 

The  feather'd  eddy  floats  ;  rejoicing  once, 

Ere  to  their  wintry  slumbers  they  retire  ; 

In  clusters  clung,  beneath  the  mouldering  bank,  840 

And  where,  unpierced  by  frost,  the  cavern  sweats. 

Or  rather  into  warmer  climes  convey'd, 

With  other  kindred  birds  of  season,  there 

They  twitter  cheerful,  till  the  vernal  months 

Invite  them  welcome  back :  for,  thronging,  now  845 

Innumerous  wings  are  in  commotion  all. 

Where  the  Rhine  loses  his  majestic  force 
In  Belgian  plains,  won  from  the  raging  deep 
By  diligence  amazing,  and  the  strong, 

Unconquerable  hand  of  liberty  ;  850 

The  stork-assembly  meets  ;  for  many  a  day, 
Consulting  deep,  and  various,  ere  they  take 
Their  arduous  voyage  through  the  liquid  sky. 
And  now  their  route  design' d,  their  leaders  chose, 
Their  tribes  adjusted,  clean'd  their  vigorous  wings,         855 
And  many  a  circle,  many  a  short  essay, 
Wheel'd  round  and  round,  in  congregation  full 
The  figured  flight  ascends ;  and,  riding  high 
Th'  aerial  billows,  mixes  with  the  clouds. 

to  ends,  of  wise  foresight,  and  benevolent  intention,  and  infinite  power, 
that  he  must  be  blind  indeed,  who  refuses  to  recognize  in  them  proofs  of 
the  most  exalted  attributes  of  the  Creator. 

848.  Won  from  the  raging  deep :  Not  only  the  Belgian  plains,  but  those 
of  Holland  also,  are  considerably  below  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  which 
is  kept  back  by  immense  dikes,  or  mounds  of  earth,  from  twenty  to  thirty 
feet  high  and  as  many  in  breadth,  erected  by  the  energetic  freemen  of 
those  countries.  Were  it  not  for  these  dikes,  a  great  part  of  the  country 
would  be  overflowed  by  the  tides.  The  keeping  up  of  these  dikes  em- 
ploys annually  more  men  than  the  corn  of  Holland  can  maintain.  Good- 
rich informs  us  that  these  dikes  are  built  of  clay,  faced  on  the  land  side 
with  wood  and  stone,  and  towards  the  sea  with  mats  of  rushes  and  sea- 
weed. In  North  Holland  during  violent  storms,  the  outsides  of  the  dikes 
are  covered  with  sail-cloth.  The  utmost  effort  is  necessary  to  prevent 
the  sea  from  making  encroachments  upon  that  low  tract  of  country. 


236  AUTUMN. 

Or  where  the  Northern  ocean,  in  vast  whirls,  860 

Boils  round  the  naked,  melancholy  isles 
Of  farthest  Thule  and  th'  Atlantic  surge 
Pours  in  among  the  stormy  Hebrides ; 
Who  can  recount  what  transmigrations  there 
Are  annual  made  ?  what  nations  come  and  go?  865 

And  how  the  living  clouds  on  clouds  arise  ? 
Infinite  wings  !  till  all  the  plume-dark  air 
And  rude  resounding  shore  are  one  wild  cry. 


VIEW    OF    SCOTLAND    FROM    THE    NORTH. 

Here  the  plain,  harmless  native  his  small  flock, 
And  herd  diminutive  of  many  hues,  8*70 

Tends  on  the  little  island's  verdant  swell, 
"  The  shepher(Ts_sea-girt  reign ;  or,  to  the  rocks 
Dire  clinging,  gathers  his  ovarious  food ; 
Or  sweeps  the  fishy  shore,  or  treasures  up 
The  plumage,  rising  full,  to  form  the  bed  875 

Of  luxury.     And  here  a  while  the  Muse, 


862.  Thule :  Turn  back  to  "Summer,"  note  1168. 

863.  The  Hebrides  lie  to  the  west  of  Scotland,  and  are  about  200  in 
number,  most  of  them  small  and  rocky,  and  barren.     They  are  chiefly  re- 
markable for  the  number  of  small  lakes  which  they  contain.     Heath  and 
moss  are  the  principal  vegetable  products.     The  shores  of  these  islands 
are  the  resort  of  incredible  multitudes  of  sea-birds,  and  the  natives  en- 
gage in  the  most  hazardous  sport  of  catching  these  birds  and  securing 
also  their  eggs.     In  the  cavities  of  the  beetling  crags  (says  Goodrich)  the 
sea-fowl  resort,  and  the  natives,  by  means  of  a  rope  about  their  middle, 
overhang  precipices  nearly  a  fourth  of  a  mile  in  height,  merely  to  look 
over  which  would  disorder  any  common  nerves.     Yet  the  adventurer, 
with  a  line  of  many  fathoms,  held  by  several  companions  above,  descends, 
and  disengaging  himself  from  the  rope,  enters  cavities  in  the  rock  higher 
than  the  arch  of  any  Gothic  church.     To  this  dangerous  method  of  pro- 
curing eggs  as  food,  Thomson  refers,  872-3. 

876-91.  In  Hugh  Miller's  opinion,  there  are  few  things  in  English  po- 
etry finer  than  the  following  description,  in  which  Thomson  lays  at  once 
all  Scotland  on  the  canvas. 


237 

High  hovering  o'er  the  broad  cerulean  scene, 
Bees  Caledonia,  in  romantic  viewjL_ 
Her  airy  mountains,  from  the  waving  main, 
Invested  with  a  keen  diffusive  sky,  ,  880 

i  Breathing  the  soul  acute  ;  her  forests  huge, 
Incult,  robust,  and  tall,  by  Nature's  hand 
Planted  of  old  ;  her  azure  lakes  between, 
Pour'd  out  extensive,  and  of  watery  wealth 
Full ;  winding  deep,  and  green,  her  fertile  vales  ;  885 

__1Vith  many  a  cool,  translucent,  brimming  flood, 
Wash'd  lovely  from  the  Tweed,  (pure  parent  stream, 
Whose  pastoral  banks  first  heard  my  Doric  reed, 

878.  Caledonia  originally  comprehended  those  parts  of  Scotland  that 
lie  north  of  the  Forth  and  Clyde,  but  the  name  has  long  been  used  to 
designate  the  whole  of  Scotland. 

888.  Whose  pastoral  banks,  &c. :  Banks  devoted  to  the  pasturage  oi 
sheep.  Here  Thomson  first  exerted  his  powers  as  a  writer  of  verse,  and 
at  the  early  age  of  fourteen  had  so  cultivated  them  as  to  be  able  to  fur- 
nish the  following  respectable  specimen — indeed  remarkable,  at  so  early 
an  age : 

Now  I  surveyed  my  native  faculties, 

And  traced  my  actions  to  their  teeming  source : 

Now  I  explored  the  universal  frame, 

Gazed  nature  through,  and  with  interior  light 

Conversed  with  angels  and  embodied  saints 

That  tread  the  courts  of  the  Eternal  King  1 

Gladly  I  would  declare  in  lofty  strains 

The  power  of  Godhead  to  the  sons  of  men, 

But  thought  is  lost  in  its  immensity : 

Imagination  wastes  its  strength  in  vain, 

And  Fancy  tires  and  turns  within  itself, 

Struck  with  the  amazing  depths  of  Deity ! 

Ah,  my  Lord  God !  in  vain  a  tender  youth, 

UnskilM  in  arts  of  deep  philosophy, 

Attempts  to  search  the  bulky  mass  of  matter, 

To  trace  the  rules  of  motion,  and  pursue 

The  phantom  Time,  too  subtile  for  his  grasp : 

Yet  may  I  from  thy  most  apparent  works 

Form  some  idea  of  their  wondrous  Author. 

It  will  help  us  to  form  an  idea  of  the  early  influences  that  operated  upon 
the  mind  of  the  young  poet,  and  also  to  understand  the  references  to  the 
scenery  referred  to  in  the  text,  to  quote  a  paragraph  from  Allan  Cunning- 
ham's Life  of  Thomson. 

When  Thomson  was  little  more  than  a  year  old,  his  father  (a  pious  and 


238  AUTUMN. 

With,  silvan  Jed,  thy  tributary  brook,) 

To  where  the  north-inflated  tempest  foams  890 

O'er  Orca's  or  Betubium's  highest  peak ; 

Nurse  of  a  people,  in  misfortune's  school 

Train'd  up  to  hardy  deeds ;  soon  visited 

By  Learning,  when  before  the  Gothic  rage 

She  took  her  western  flight:  a  manly  race,  895 

Of  unsubmitting  spirit,  wise,  and  brave ; 

IWho  still  through  bleeding  ages  struggled  hard, 
(As  well  unhappy  Wallace  can  attest, 

diligent  minister  of  the  Church  of  Scotland)  received  a  call  from  Ednam 
(near  Kelso),  to  Southdean  on  the  waters  of  Jed,  in  the  same  county  ot 
Roxburgh.  From  a  scene  of  cultivated  beauty,  where  the  ruins  of  Rox- 
burgh Castle,  the  magnificent  remains  of  Kelso  Abbey,  the  clear  and 
slow-sliding  stream  of  Tweed,  and  the  hurrying  current  of  the  Teviot, 
unite  with  the  hills  and  dales  around  in  forming  a  landscape  of  no  ordi- 
nary beauty,  the  all  but  unconscious  poet  was  taken  to  one  of  a  ruder, 
yet  not,  perhaps,  less  lovely  kind.  Southdean  is  truly  a  pastoral  land ; 
lovely  with  its  green  hills,  and  its  blooming  heather,  while  the  slender 
stream  of  the  "  crystal  Jed"  winding  through  the  whole,  adds  a  look  of 
life  by  its  moving  waters  to  the  upland  solitude.  In  this  lonesome  though 
romantic  place  the  poet  passed  his  early  years  :  nor  was  he  insensible,  when 
but  a  boy,  to  a  scene  which  his  biographer,  Lord  Buchan,  calls  a  land  "  full 
of  the  elements  of  natural  beauty — wood,  water,  eminence,  and  rock,  with 
intermixture  of  rich  and  beautiful  meadow."  Here,  as  he  wandered  by 
himself,  he  first  met  the  Muse — not  the  Muse  that  visited  Burns,  with  a 
wildly  witty  grace  on  her  brow,  and  a  tartan  kirtle  reaching  half-leg' 
down  ;  but  such  a  one  as  his  enthusiastic  mother  would  have  loved — a 
Muse  staid,  devout,  demure  ;  her  looks,  in  the  language  of  Milton,  "  com- 
mercing with  the  skies." 

891.  Orca  and  Betubium  are,  probably,  high  peaks  in  the  mountains  of 
the  north  of  Scotland — or  possibly  on  some  of  the  Orkney  islands  (Or- 
cad*s\  where  at  certain  seasons  the  most  furious  tempests  are  common. 

898.  Wallace :  Sir  William  "Wallace,  one  of  the  most  renowned  heroes 
an  1  patriots  of  modern  times.  Russell,  the  historian,  thus  speaks  of  him: 
— "He  was  of  a  gigantic  stature  and  endowed  with  wonderful  strength  of 
b  •  l.y  ;  with  invincible  fortitude  of  mind  ;  with  disinterested  magnanimity; 
with  incredible  patience,  and  ability  to  bear  hunger,  fatigue,  and  all  the 
severities  of  the  seasons ;  so  that  he  soon  acquired,  among  his  desperate 
associates,  that  authority  to  which  his  virtues  so  eminently  entitled  him. 
Every  day  brought  accounts  of  his  gallant  actions  (in  resistance  to  Eoglish 


AUTUMN.  239 

Great  patriot  hero  !  ill-requited  chief !) 
To  hold  a  generous  undirninish'd  state ;  900 

Too  much  in  vain  !     Hence  of  unequal  bounds 
Impatient,  and  by  tempting  glory  borne 

/  O'er  every  land,  for  every  land  their  life 
Has  flowed  profuse,  their  piercing  genius  plann'd, 
And  swell'd  the  pomp  of  peace  their  faithful  toil ;          905 
As  from  their  own  clear  north,  in  radiant  streams, 

x  Bright  over  Europe  bursts  the  boreal  morn. 

AN    APPEAL   TO    SCOTTISH    PATRIOTISM. 

Oh !  is  there  not  some  patriot,  in  whose  power 
That  best,  that  godlike  luxury  is  placed, 
Of  blessing  thousands,  thousands  yet  unborn,  910 

usurpations  and  cruelties),  which  were  received  with  no  less  favor  by  his 
countrymen  than  terror  by  the  enemy."  He  drove  the  English  from 
Scotland  and  recovered  the  fortresses  which  they  had  taken,  and  pursued 
the  English  army  into  England  as  far  as  Durham ;  was  revered  by  his 
countrymen  and  hailed  as  their  deliverer  and  their  Regent.  This  eleva- 
tion, though  well  deserved  and  fairly  won  by  a  self-sacrificing  and  generous 
patriotism,  unfortunately  excited  the  jealousy  of  some  prominent  nobles, 
created  dissensions,  and  rendered  Scotland  again  a  prey  to  the  victorious 
Edward  of  England.  Wallace  remained  independent,  and  greatly  annoyed 
the  English ;  but  having  been  basely  betrayed  by  a  professed  friend,  he 
was  carried,  by  Edward's  order,  in  chains  to  London,  tried  and  condemned 
unjustly  as  a  traitor,  executed  on  Tower-hill,  and  his  body  barbarously 
divided ;  the  parts  were  placed  on  different  gates  of  the  city. 

907.  Boreal  morn :  The  splendid  coruscations  of  this  phenomenon,  pro- 
ceeding from  the  regions  north  of  Scotland,  are  here  used  as  a  beautiful 
illustration  of  the  benign  and  illuminating  influence  of  Scottish  mind,  and 
brilliant  achievements  of  Scottish  valor,  in  its  various  emigrations  from  a 
land  "  unequal"  in  size  and  resources  to  the  wants,  or  rather  to  the  enter- 
prise, of  its  intelligent  and  industrious  inhabitants. 

The  Aurora  Borealis,  or  Northern  Morn,  in  the  islands  north  of  Scotland, 
is  said,  for  a  considerable  period  of  the  year,  to  be  equal  to  the  light  of  a 
full  moon. 

908.  Patriot :  Thomson  eloquently  points  out  the  various  methods  in 
which  a  godlike  luxury  may  be  experienced  by  the  intelligent  patriot,  in 
promoting  the  welfare  and  progress  of  his  countrymen. 


24:0  AUTUMN. 

Through  late  posterity  ?  some,  large  of  soul, 
To  cheer  dejected  industry  ?  to  give 
A  double  harvest  to  the  pining  swain  ? 
And  teach  the  laboring  hand  the  sweets  of  toil  ? 
How,  by  the  finest  art,  the  native  robe  915 

To  weave  ;  how,  white  as  hyperborean  snow, 
To  form  the  lucid  lawn ;  with  venturous  oar 
How  to  dash  wide  the  billow ;  nor  look  on, 
Shamefully  passive,  while  Batavian  fleets 

•>      I  Defraud  us  of  the  glittering  finny  swarms,  920 

That  heave  our  friths  and  crowd  upon  our  shores  ? 
How  all-enlivening  trade  to  rouse,  and  wing 
The  prosperous  sail,  from  every  growing  port, 
Uninjured,  round  the  sea-encircled  globe ; 
And  thus,  in  soul  united  as  in  name,  925 

Bid  Britain  reign  the  mistress  of  the  deep  ? 

Yes,  there  are  such.     And  full  on  thee,  Argyle, 
Her  hope,  her  stay,  her  darling,  and  her  boast, 
From  her  first  patriots  and  her  heroes  sprung, 
Thy  fond  imploring  country  turns  her  eye ;  930 

In  thee,  with  all  a  mother's  triumph,  sees 
Her  every  virtue,  every  grace  combined, 


917.  Lucid  lawn:  The  lawn  is  a  fine  variety  of  cambric,  which  was 
formerly  manufactured  (probably  in  the  time  of  Thomson)  by  the  Flemish 
exclusively ;  but  in  late  years  the  lawn  manufacture  in  Scotland  has  been 
brought  to  as  high  perfection  as  in  Flanders. 

919.  Batavian  fleets :  The  shipping  of  Holland,  which  the  ancient  Batavi 
inhabited.  The  herring  fishery  on  the  shores  of  Scotland  is  here  referred 
to,  in  which,  at  the  time  the  poet  wrote,  about  one  hundred  thousand 
fishermen  were  employed  by  the  Dutch. 

927.  Argyle :  The  Duke  of  Argyle,  one  of  the  most  prominent  nobles  of 
Scotland  in  the  reign  of  George  I.  He  was  honored  in  1714  with  the 
appointment  of  command er-in-chief  of  the  royal  forces  in  Scotland  to  resist 
the  designs  of  the  Pretender,  James,  to  the  throne  of  Great  Britain,  which 
his  father,  James  II.,  had  been  compelled  to  abdicate.  Argyle  displayed 
great  wisdom,  patriotism,  and  valor  in  the  post  assigned  him,  and  gained 
great  honor  from  the  success  which  crowned  his  measures. 


AUTUMN.  24:1 

Her  genius,  wisdom,  her  engaging  turn, 

Her  pride  of  honor,  and  her  courage  tried, 

Calm,  and  intrepid,  in  the  very  throat  935 

Of  sulphurous  war,  on  Tenier's  dreadful  field. 

Nor  less  the  palm  of  peace  in  wreathes  thy  brow : 

For,  powerful  as  thy  sword,  from  thy  rich  tongue 

Persuasion  flows,  and  wins  the  high  debate ; 

While  mix'd  in  thee  combine  the  charm  of  youth,  940 

The  force  of  manhood,  and  the  depth  of  age. 

Thee,  Forbes,  too,  whom  every  worth  attends, 

As  truth  sincere,  as  weeping  friendship  kind ; 

Thee,  truly  generous,  and  in  silence  great, 

Thy  country  feels  through  her  reviving  arts,  945 

Planned  by  thy  wisdom,  by  thy  soul  informed ; 

And  seldom  has  she  known  a  friend  like  thee. 

THE    WOODS    CHANGING    COLOR    AND    LOSING    THEIR    FOLIAGE. 

But  see  the  fading,  many  color'd  woods, 
Shade  deepening  over  shade,  the  country  round 

942.  Forbes:  Judge  Duncan  Forbes,  of  Edinburgh,  President  of  the 
Court  of  Sessions,  and  one  of  the  earliest  patrons  of  Thomson  on  his  literary 
debut  at  London. 

948.  Many  colored  woods :  The  graphic  description  which  Prof.  "Wilson 
gives  of  Belle  Isle  in  Autumn  deserves  a  place  here  as  illustrative  of  the 
subject : — "  There  is  a  slight  frost  in  the  air,  in  the  sky,  on  the  lake,  and 
mid-day  is  as  still  as  midnight.  But,  though  still,  it  is  cheerful.  *  *  * 
Could  you  not  think  that  a  splendid  sunset  had  fallen  in  fragments  on  the 
isle  that  is  called  Beautiful,  and  set  it  all  a-blaze  !  The  woods  are  on  fire» 
yet  they  burn  not ;  beauty  subdues  while  it  fosters  the  flame  ;  and  there, 
as  in  a  many-tented  tabernacle,  has  color  pitched  his  royal  residence,  and 
reigns  in  glory  beyond  that  of  any  oriental  king.  What  are  all  the  cano- 
pies, and  balconies,  and  galleries  of  human  state,  all  hung  with  the  richest 
drapery  that  ever  the  skill  of  Art,  that  wizard,  drew  forth  in  gorgeous 
folds  from  his  enchanted  loom,  if  ideally  suspended  in  the  air  of  imagina- 
tion, beside  the  sun-and-storm-stainecl  furniture  of  these  palaces  of  Autumn 
framed  by  the  spirit  of  the  season,  of  her  own  living  umbrage,  for  his  own 
last  delight,  ere  he  move  in  annual  migration,  with  all  his  court,  to  some 
foreign  clime  far  beyond  the  seas !" 


24:2  AUTUMN. 

Imbrown ;  a  crowded  umbrage,  dusk,  and  dun,  950 

Of  every  hue,  from  wan  declining  green 

To  sooty  dark.     These  now  the  lonesome  Muse, 

Low  whispering,  lead  into  their  leaf-strown  walks, 

And  give  the  Season  in  its  latest  view. 

Meantime,  light  shadowing  all,  a  sober  calm  955 


950-2.  Umbrage,  dusk,  and  dun,  <fcc. :  Dr.  Greenwood,  in  his  edition  of 
Duncan's  Seasons,  makes  the  following  excellent  remarks  on  this  passage  : 
We  must  remember  that  the  above  is  a  description  of  the  autumnal 
woods  of  England,  and  not  of  the  autumnal  forests  of  New  England  Ours 
are  indeed  the  "many-colored  woods;"  but  "a  varied  umbrage,  dusk  and 
dun,"  are  not  the  words  to  convey  any  idea  of  them.  In  localities  where 
certain  trees  predominate,  the  forest  absolutely  flames  with  lights  and 
hues,  which  have  no  counterpart  in  natural  scenery,  except  in  those  which 
sometimes  tinge  the  clouds  as  they  gather  round  the  setting  sun.  It 
seems  as  if  all  the  brightest  flowers  of  Spring  and  Summer  had  revived 
again,  to  be  hung  upon  the  forest  boughs,  and  grace  the  departure  of  the 
year;  for  this  glory  is  but  the  prelude  of  death,  and  the  preparation  for 
a  funeral.  On  entering  our  woods  at  this  season,  one  might  think  that  he 
was  walking  down  the  aisles  of  some  vast  cathedral.  The  sun  shines 
through  the  foliage,  as  through  old  tinted  windows,  suffusing  the  air  with 
warmth,  and  color,  and  worship. 

The  change  from  the  deep  Summer  green  to  the  splendid  variety  of 
Autumn,  is  sometimes  produced  in  a  single  night  by  the  silent  but  all- 
powerful  ministry  of  frost.  But  the  superior  gorgeousness  of  the  foliage 
is  owing  not  so  much  to  any  peculiarity  of  climate,  as  to  the  peculiar 
character  of  some  of  our  native  trees.  Among  those  which  contribute 
most  strikingly  to  the  show,  are  the  maples,  and  the  tupelo,  errone- 
ously called  hornbeam,  the  former  bringing  their  vivid  yellows  and 
scarlets,  and  the  latter  its  deep  crimson.  The  wild  creeper  too,  the  ivy 
of  our  country,  though  not  ivy,  festoons  the  gray  rocks  and  dark  stumps 
with  purple  and  crimson  wreaths ;  and  the  ferns  do  their  ample  share. 
Individual  trees  are  often  objects  of  great  interest  in  their  autumnal 
dress.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  the  sugar-maple  exhibit  three  distinct 
colors,  yellow,  scarlet,  and  green,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  either  mingled 
together,  or  in  separate  masses. 

The  brilliant  hues  now  mentioned  are  over  and  above  the  endless 
variety  of  browns  which  mark  the  falling  season  in  temperate  climates. 
The  display  is  too  bright,  perhaps,  for  the  canvas  to  imitate,  but  to  the 
lover  and  observer  of  nature  it  is,  while  it  lasts,  a  constant  feast.  Presently 
the  brightness  grows  dim  with  the  shortening  days ;  a  dull  brown  begins 
to  prevail — prevails — the  leaves  drop ;  the  pageant  has  passed  away. 


AUTUMN.  243 

Fleeces  unbounded  ether ;  whose  least  wave 

Stands  tremulous,  uncertain  where  to  turn 

The  gentle  current ;  while  illumined  wide, 

The  d£w^j-skirted_clouds  imbibe  the  sun, 

And  through  their  lucid  veil  his  soften'd  force  960 

Shed  o'er  the  peaceful  world.     Then  is  the  time, 

For  those  whom  wisdom  and  whom  Nature  charn 

To  steal  themselves  from  the  degenerate  crowd, 

^vnd  soar  above  this  little  scene  of  things  ; 

To  tread  low-thoughted  vice  beneath  their  feet;  |  965 

To  soothe  the  throbbing  passions  into  peace, 

And vgoJojne_£u|eJM^  —-          b 


^ 

Thus  solitary,  and  in  pensive  guise, 
Oft  let  me  wander  o'er  the  russet  mead, 
And  through  the  sad  den  Jd  grove,  where  scarce  is  heard 
One  dying  strain,  to  cheer  the  woodman's  toil. 
Haply  some  widow'd  songster  pours  his  plaint, 
Far,  in  faint  warblings,  through  the  tawny  copse ; 
While  congregated  thrushes,  linnets,  larks, 
And  each  wild  throat,  whose  artless  strains  so  late 


lo 


975 


Swelled  all  the  music  of  the  swarming  shades, 

Robb'd  of  their  tuneful  souls,  now  shiv'ring  sit 

On  the  dead  tree,  a  dull  despondent  flock ; 

With  not  a  brightness  waving  o'er  their  plumes, 

And  naught  save  chattering  discord  in  their  note.       /    980 

0,  let  not,  aim'd  from  some  inhuman  eye, 

The  gun  the  music  of  the  coming  year 

968-85.  Having  spoken  of  the  tendency  of  the  quiet  scenes  of  Autumn 
to  withdraw  from  sordid  and  vicious  pursuits  all  in  whose  breasts  there 
is  any  sympathy  with  Nature  and  admiration  of  her  charms,  the  poet 
presents  us  a  fine  picture  of  his  own  predilections  and  pursuits — a  valuable 
though  brief  specimen  of  autobiography.  It  is  continued  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  Philosophic  Melancholy,  under  which  term  he  evidently  portraya 
the  workings  of  his  own  mind  and  heart  (1002-1029);  he  then  proceeds 
to  exhibit  more  fully  the  pursuits  that  attract  him  most,  and  which 
indicate  a  highly  cultivated  and  philosophic  taste  (1028-1079). 


244  AUTUMN. 

Destroy ;  and  harmless,  unsuspecting  harm, 

Lay  the  weak  tribes  a  miserable  prey, 

In  mingled  murder,  fluttering  on  the  ground !  985 

The  pale-descending  year,  yet  pleasing  still, 
I  A.  gentler  mood  inspires ;  for  now  the  leaf 
Incessant  rustles  from  the  mournful  grove ; 
Oft  startling  such  as,  studious,  walk  below, 
And  slowly  circles  through  the  waving  air.  990 

But  should  a  quicker  breeze  amid  the  boughs 
Sob,  f  'er  the  sky  the  leafy  deluge  streams ; 
Till,  choked  and  matted  with  the  dreary  shower, 
The  forest- walks,  at  every  rising  gale, 
Roll  wide  the  wither'd  waste,  and  whistle  bleak.  995 

/Fled  is  the  blasted  verdure  of  the  fields ; 
/And,  shrunk  into  their  beds,  the  flowery  race 
j  {Their  sunny  robes  resign.     E'en  what  remain'd 
Of  stronger  fruits  falls  from  the  naked  tree  ; 
And  woods,  fields,  gardens,  orchards,  all  around  1000 

The  desolated  prospect  thrills  the  soul. 


'HIC    MELANCHOLY ITS    OPERATIONS    AND    EFFECTS. 

.e  comes !  he  comes  !  in  every  breeze  the  Power 
_  philosophic  Melancholy  comes  ! 
•  His  near  approach  the  sudden-starting  tear, 
The  glowing  cheek,  the  mild  dejected  air,  1005 

The  soften'd  feature,  and  the  beating  heart, 

.  ~ 

1001.  The  above  paragraph  is  a  true  and  touching  picture  of  the  close 
of  Autumn,  but  not  more  so  than-  that  which  our  own  gifted  Bryant  has 
furnished,  in  the  poem  beginning  with  this  stanza : — 

"The  melancholy  days  have  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year, 
Of  wailing  winds  and  naked  woods,  and  meadows  brown  and  sere. 
Heap'd  in  the  hollows  of  the  grove  the  wither'd  leaves  lie  dead, 
They  rustle  to  the  eddying  gust  and  to  the  rabbit's  tread. 
The  robin  and  the  wren  are  flown,  and  from  the  shrubs  the  jay, 
And  from  the  wood-top  calls  the  crow  through  all  the  gloomy  day.'* 


AUTUMN. 


245 


'ierced  deep  with  many  a  vi^iSISJPfl^S'  declare, 
O'er  all  the  soul  his  sacred  influence  breathes  I 
Inflames  imagination  ;  through  the  breasl 
Infuses  every  tenderness  ;  and  far  1010 

Beyond  dim  earth  exalts  the  swelling  thought. 
Ten  thousand 


As  never  mingled  with  the  vulgar  dream, 

Crowd  fast  into  the  mind's  creative  eye. 

As  fast  the  correspondent  passions  rise,  1015 

As  varied,  and  as  high :  devotionjraised 

To  rapture  and  divine  astonishment ; 

The  love  of  Nature,  unconfined,  and,  chief, 

Of  human  race ;  the  large  ambitious  wish, 

To  make  them  bless'd ;  the  sigh  for  suffering  worth      1020 

Lost  in  obscurity ;  the  noble  scorn 

Of  tyrant  pride ;  the  fearless,  great  resolve ; 

The  wonder  which  the  dying  patriot  draws, 

Inspiring  glory  through  remotest  time ; 

The  awaken'd  throb  for  virtue  and  for  fame ;  1025 

The  sympathies  of  love  and  friendship  dear, 

With  all  the  social  offspring  of  the  heart. 

Oh !  bear  me  then  to  vast  embowering  shades, 
To  twilight  groves,  and  visionary  vales ; 
To  weepmg  grottoes,  and  prophetic  glooms ;  1030 

Where  angel  forms  athwart  the  solemn  dusk 
Tremendous  sweep,  or  seem  to  sweep  along ; 
And  voices  more  than  human,  through  the  void 
Deep  sounding,  seize  th'  enthusiastic  ear ! 

PIT?  ^ND    LORD    COBHAM. 

Or  is  this  gloom  too  much  ?  then  lead,  ye  powers,     1035 
That  o'er  the  garden  and  the  rural  seat 

1019.  At  the  commencement  of  this  line,  to  apprehend  the  meaning 
easily,  you  must  supply  the  first  three  words  of  the  previous  line. 


24:6  AUTUMN. 

Preside,  which  shining  through  the  cheerful  land 

I  In  countless  numbers  bless'd  Britannia  sees ; 
0,  lead  me  to  the  wide-extended  walks, 
The  fair,  majestic  paradise  of  Stowe !  104C 

Not  Persian  Cyrus  on  Ionia's  shore 
E'er  saw  such  silvan  scenes ;  such  various  art 
-By  genius  fired,  such  ardent  genius  tamed 
By  cool  judicious  art ;  that,  in  the  strife, 
All-beauteous  Nature  fears  to  be  undone.  1045 

And  there,  0  Pitt,  thy  country's  early  boast, 
There  let  me  sit  beneath  the  shelter'd  slopes, 
Or  in  that  Temple  where,  in  future  times, 
Thou  well  shalt  merit  a  distinguish'd  name  ; 
And,  with  thy  converse  bless'd,  catch  the  last  smiles      1050 
Of  Autumn  beaming  o'er  the  yellow  woods. 
While  there  with  thee  th'  enchanted  round  I  walk, 
The  regulated  wild,  gay  fancy  then 
Will  tread  in  thought  the  groves  of  Attic  land  a     \\\» 
Will  from  thy  standard  taste  refine  her  own,      |Vl        1055 
Correct  her  pencil  to  the  pur^stjruth 


1040.  Stowe :  The  seat  of  Lord  Cobham. 

1046.  Pitt:  William  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham  (born  1708;  died  1778). 
He  entered  the  British  Parliament  at  twenty-one  years  of  age.  where  he 
subsequently  excelled  all  others  in  debate.  In  1740  he  delivered  his  cel- 
ebrated speech  in  reply  to  Robert  Walpole,  who  had  spoken  disparaging- 
ly of  him  on  account  of  his  youth.  His  style  of  oratory  (says  Cham- 
bers) was  of  the  highest  class :  rapid,  vehement,  and  overpowering ;  and 
it  was  adorned  by  all  the  graces  of  action  and  delivery.  His  public 
conduct  was  singularly  pure  and  disinterested,  considering  the  venality  of 
the  times  in  which  he  lived  ;  but  as  a  statesman  he  was  often  inconsistent 
and  haughty.  His  acceptance  of  a  peerage  (in  1766)  hurt  his  popularity 
with  the  nation,  who  loved  and  reverenced  him  as  "  the  great  common- 
er ;"  but  he  still  "  shook  the  senate"  with  the  resistless  appeals  of  his 
eloquence. 

He  was  opposed  to  the  war  with  America,  to  the  stamp  act,  and  esjj* 
cially  to  the  employment  of  Indian  savages  in  carrying  on  the  war  Hia 
speeches  on  these  topics  are  familiar. 

1048.  Temple :  The  Temple  of  Virtue  in  Stowe  Gardens. 


AUTUMN.  24:7 

jOf  Nature,  or,  the  unimpassion'd  shades 

JForsaking,  raise  it  to  the  human  mind. 
Or  if  hereafter  she,  with  juster  hand, 

Shall  draw  the  tragic  scene,  instruct  her  thou,  1060 

To  mark  the  varied  movements  of  the  heart, 

iWhat  every  decent  character  requires, 

And  every  passion  speaks  :  0,  through  her  strain 

Breathe  thy  pathetic  eloquence  !  that  moulds 

Th'  attentive  senate,  charms,  persuades,  exalts ;  1065 

Of  honest  zeal  th'  indignant  lightning  throws, 

And  shakes  corruption  on  her  venal  throne. 

While  thus  we  talk,  and  through  Elysian  vales 

Delighted  rove,  perhaps  a  sigh  escapes ; 

What  pity,  Cobham,  thou  thy  verdant  files  1070 

Of  order*  d  trees  shouldst  here  inglorious  range, 

Instead  of  squadrons  flaming  o'er  the  field, 

And  long  embattled  hosts !  when  the  proud  foe, 

The  faithless,  vain  disturber  of  mankind, 

Insulting  Gaul,  has  roused  the  world  to  war !  1075 

When  keen,  once  more,  within  their  bounds  to  press 

Those  polish' d  robbers,  those  ambitious  slaves, 

The  British  youth  would  hail  thy  wise  command, 

Thy  tempered  ardor,  and  thy  veteran  skill !  .  » 

a^c^ir-* 

AUTUMNAL    MOONLIGHT,    AND    METEORIC    APPEARANCES. 


The  western  sun  withdraws  the  shorten'd  day ;      j  1080 
I  And  humid  evening,  gliding  o'er  the  sky, 
i  In  her  chill  progress,  to  the  ground  condensed 


•i 


1070.  Cobham  :  Concerning  Lord  Cobham  it  appears  from  the  follow- 
ing lines  that  his  reputation  and  skill  related  not  to  eloquence  or  states- 
manship, as  in  the  former  case,  but  to  military  affairs. 

1075.  /nttclft'ngr  Gaul :  Louis  XIV.,  king  of  France,  who  encouraged 
and  aided  the  Pretender  to  fight  his  way  to  the  English  throne,  in  the 
time  of  George  I. 


248  K>  AUTUMN. 


-Jr       The  vapors  throws.     Where  creeping  waters  ooze, 
Where  marshes  stagnate,  and  where  rivers  wind, 
Cluster  the  rolling  fogs,  and  swim  along  1085 

The  dusky  mantled  lawn.     Meanwhile  the  moon       \ 
s»  |£ull-orb'd,  and  breaking  through  the  scatter'd  clouds\ 
ShowsTier  broad  visage  in  the  crimson  east.  \     $ 

Turn'd  to  the  sun  direct  her  spotted  disk, 
>    Where  mountains  rise,  umbrageous  dales  descend,        1090 
And  caverns  deep,  as  optic  tube  descries, 
A  smaller  earth,  gives  us  his  blaze  again, 
Void  of  its  flame,  and  sheds  a  softer  day. 
Now  through  the  passing  cloud  she  seems  to  stoop, 
Now  up  the  pure  cerulean  rides  sublime.  1095 

Wide  the  pale  deluge  floats,  and  streaming  mild 
O'er  the  skied  mountain  to  the  shadowy  vale, 
While  rocks  and  floods  reflect  the  quivering  gleam, 
The  whole  air  whitens  with  a  boundless  tide 
Of  silver  radiance,  trembling  round  the  world.  1100 

But  when,  half  blotted  from  the  sky,  her  light, 
Fainting,  permits  the  starry  fires  to  burn 
With  keener  lustre  through  the  depth  of  heaven ; 
Or  near  extinct  her  deaden'd  orb  appears, 
And  scarce  appears,  of  sickly,  beamless  white  ;  1105 

Oft  in  this  season,  silent  from  the  north 
A  blaze  of  meteors  shoots.     Ensweeping  first     / 
The  lower  skies,  they  all  at  once  converge 
High  to  the  crown  of  heaven,  and  all  at  once 
Relapsing  quick,  as  quickly  reascend,  1110 

And  mix  and  thwart,  extinguish  and  renew, 
All  ether  coursing  in  a  maze  of  light. 
From  look  to  look,  contagious  through  the  crowd,! 
The  panic  runs,  and  into  wondrous  shapes 
Th'  appearance  throws  :  armies  in  meet  array,  1115 

Throng'd  with  aerial  spears  and  steeds  of  fire, 
Till  the  long  lines  of  full  extended  war 


AUTUMN.  249 

In  bleeding  fight  commix'd,  the  sanguine  flood 

Rolls  a  broad  slaughter  o'er  the  plains  of  heaven. 

As  thus  they  scan  the  visionary  scene,  1120 

On  all  sides  swells  the  superstitious  din, 

Incontinent ;  and  busy  phrensy  talks 

Of  blood  and  battle ;  cities  overturned, 

And  late  at  night  in  swallowing  earthquake  sunk, 

Or  hideous  wrapp'd  in  fierce  ascending  flame ;  1125 

Of  sallow  famine,  inundation,  storm  ; 

Of  pestilence,  and  every  great  distress ; 

Empires  subversed,  when  ruling  fate  has  struck 

The  unalterable  hour.     E'en  Nature's  self 

Is  deem'd  to  totter  on  the  brink  of  time.  1130 

Not  so  the  man  of  philosophic  eye, 

And  inspect  sage  :  the  waving  brightness  he 

Curious  surveys,  inquisitive  to  know 

The  causes  and  materials,  yet  unfix'd, 

Of  this  appearance,  beautiful  and  new.  1135 


THE    MOONLESS    NIGHT  '.    THE    BENIGHTED    TRAVELLER. 

Now  black  and  deep  the  night  begins  to  fall, 
(A  shade  immense.     Sunk  in  the  quenching  gloom, 
Magnificent  and  vast,  are  heaven  and  earth. 
Order  confounded  lies  ;  all  beauty  void  ; 
Distinction  lost ;  and  gay  variety  1140 

One  universal  blot :  such  the  fair  power 
Of  light,  to  kindle  and  create  the  whole. 
Drear  is  the  state  of  the  benighted  wretch, 
Who  then,  bewilder'd,  wanders  through  the  dark, 
Full  of  pale  fancies  and  chimeras  huge  ;  1145 

Nor  visited  by  one  directive  ray, 
From  cottage  streaming  or  from  airy  hall. 
Perhaps  impatient  as  he  stumbles  on, 
Struck  from  the  root  of  slimy  rushes,  blue, 
11* 


250  AUTUMN. 

The  wildfire  scatters  round,  or  gathered  trails  1150 

A  length  of  flame  deceitful  o'er  the  moss ; 

Whither  decoy 'd  by  the  fantastic  blaze, 

Now  lost  and  now  renew'd,  he  sinks  absorb'd, 

Rider  and  horse,  amid  the  miry  gulf : 

While  still,  from  day  to  day,  his  pining  wife,  1155 

And  plaintive  children  his  return  await, 

In  wild  conjecture  lost.     At  other  times, 

Sent  by  the  better  genius  of  the  night, 

Innoxious,  gleaming  on  the  horse's  mane, 

The  meteor  sits;  and  shows  the  narrow  path,  1160 

That  winding  leads  through  pits  of  death,  or  else, 

Instructs  him  how  to  take  the  dangerous  ford. 

The  lengthen'd  night  elapsed,  the  morning  shines 
Serene,  in  all  her  dewy  beauty  bright, 
Unfolding  fair  the  last  autumnal  day.  1*165 

And  now  the  mounting  sun  dispels  the  fog  ; 
The  rigid  hoar-frost  melts  before  his  beam  ; 
And  hung  on  every  spray,  on  every  blade 
Of  grass,  the  myriad  dew-drops  twinkle  round. 

1152.  Fantastic  blaze  :  Reference  is  made  to  what  is  sometimes  called 
Ignis  Fatuus  (vain  or  illusive  fire) — a  kind  of  luminous  meteor  (I  use  the 
language  of  Brande)  which  flies  about  in  the  air  a  little  above  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  and  appears  chiefly  in'  marshy  places,  or  near  stagnant  wa- 
ters, or  in  churchyards,  during  the  nights  of  summer.  There  are  many 
instances  of  travellers  having  been  decoyed  by  these  lights  into  marshy 
places,  where  they  perished  ,  and  hence  the  names  Jack-with-a-lanternt 
Will-with-a-wixp  ;  the  people  ascribing  the  appearance  to  the  agency  of 
evil  spirits,  who  take  this  mode  of  alluring  men  to  their  destruction. 
The  cause  of  the  phenomenon  does  not  seem  to  be  perfectly  understood ; 
it  is  generally  supposed  to  be  produced  by  the  decomposition  of  animal 
or  of  vegetable  matters,  or  by  the  evolution  of  gases  which  spontaneously 
inflame  in  the  atmosphere. 

Milton  thus  describes  the  phenomenon  : 

"  A  wandering  fire, 

Hovering  and  blazing  with  delusive  light, 
Misleads  the  amazed  night-wanderer  from-his  way 
To  bogs  and  mires,  and  oft  through  pond  or  pool, 
There  swallow'd  up  and  lost,  from  succor  far." 


AUTUMN. 


THE    INVADED    BEE-HIVE. 


Ah,  see  where,  robb'd  and  murder'd,  in  that  pit  '    11*70 
Lies  the  still  heaving  hive  !  at  evening  snatch'd 
Beneath  the  cloud  of  guilt-concealing  night, 
And  fix'd  o'er  sulphur ;  while,  not  dreaming  ill, 
The  happy  people  in  their  waxen  cells, 
Sat  tending  public  cares,  and  planning  schemes  1175 

Of  temperance,  for  Winter  poor  ;  rejoiced 
To  mark,  full  flowing  round,  their  copious  stores. 
Sudden  the  dark,  oppressive  steam  ascends ; 
And,  used  to  milder  scents,  -the  tender  race, 
By.  thousands,  tumble  from  their  honied  domes,  1180 

Convolved,  and  agonizing  in  the  dust. 
And  was  it  then  for  this  you  roam'd  the  Spring, 
Intent  from  flower  to  flower  ?  for  this  you  toil'd 
Ceaseless  the  burning  Summer  heats  away  ? 
For  this  in  Autumn  search'd  the  blooming  waste,         1185 
'or  lost  one  sunny  gleam  ?  for  this  sad  fate  ? 

man  !  tyrannic  lord  !  how  long,  how  long 
ihall  prostrate  Nature  groan  beneath  your  rage, 
Awaiting  renovation  ?     When  obliged, 
Must  you  destroy  ?     Of  their  ambrosial  food  1190 

Can  you  not  borrow  ;  and  in  just  return 
Afford  them  shelter  from  the  wintry  winds  ; 
Or,  as  the  sharp  year  pinches,  with  their  own 
Again  regale  them  on  some  smiling  day  ? 
See  where  the  stony  bottom  of  their  town  1195 

Looks  desolate  and  wild ;  with  here  and  there— ^ 
A  helpless  number,  who  the  ruin'd  state 
Survive,  lamenting  weak,  cast  out  to  death. 
Thus  a  proud  city,  populous  and  rich, 
Full  of  the  works  of  peace,  and  high  in  joy,  1200 

At  theatre  or  feast,  or  sunk  in  sleep, 
(As  late,  Palermo,  was  thy  fate,)  is  seized 


252  AUTUMN. 

By  some  dread  earthquake,  and  convulsive  hurl'd, 
Sheer  from  the  black  foundation,  stench-involved, 
Into  a  gulf  of  blue  sulphureous  flame.  1205 

THE    LAST    DAY    OF    AUTUMN. 

Hence  every  harsher  sight !  for  now  the  day, 
O'er  heaven  and  earth  diffused,  grows  warm  and  high, 
Infinite  splendor  wide  investing  all.  ^ 

How  still  the  breeze  !  save  what  the  filmy  threads^ 
Of  dew  evaporate  brushes  from  the  plain.  1210 

How  clear  the  cloudless  sky !  how  deeply  tinged 
With  a  peculiar  blue !  th'  etherial  arch 
How  swell'd  immense !  amid  whose  azure  throned, 
The  radiant  sun  how  gay !     How  calm  below 
The  gilded  earth  !  the  harvest  treasures  all  1215 

Now  gather'd  in,  beyond  the  rage  of  storms, 
Sure  to  the  swain  ;  the  circling  fence  shut  up  ; 
And  instant  Winter's  utmost  rage  defied. 
While,  loose  to  festive  joy,  the  country  round 
Laughs  with  the  loud  sincerity  of  mirth,  1220 

Shook  to  the  wind  their  cares.     The  toil-strung  youth, 
By  the  quick  sense  of  music  taught  alone, 
Leaps  wildly  graceful  in  the  lively  dance. 
Her  every  charm  abroad,  the  village  toast, 
Young,  buxom,  warm,  in  native  beauty  rich,  1225 

Darts  not  unmeaning  looks ;  and  where  her  eye 

1202.  Palermo:  The  capital  of  the  island  of  Sicily,  a  city  of  great 
beauty.  Between  it  and  the  mountains  the  country,  it  is  said,  is  one  of 
the  richest  plains  in  the  world,  the  whole  appearing  a  magnificent  garden, 
filled  with  fruitful  trees  and  watered  by  fountains  and  rivulets.  It 
abounds  in  rich  and  magnificent  church  edifices.  At  various  periods  it  has 
been  injured  by  earthquakes  and  inundations. 

1224.  The  village  toast :  That  is,  the  subject  of  the  village  toast — a  per- 
son in  honor  of  whom  wine  is  drank — expressive  of  a  desire  for  her  health 
And  happiness. 


AUTUMN.  253 

Points  an  approving  smile,  with  double  force, 

The  cudgel  rattles,  and  the  wrestler  twines. 

Age  too  shines  out ;  and,  garrulous,  recounts 

The  feats  of  youth.     Thus  they  rejoice  ;  nor  think       1230 

That,  with  to-morrow's  sun,  their  annual  toil 

Begins  again  the  never  ceasing  round. 

THE    PURE    PLEASURES    OF    RURAL    LIFE. 

A  Jr 

y  Oh,  knew  he  but  his  happiness,  of  men 

The  happiest  he !  who  far  from  public  rage,$>'  *' 

Deep  in  the  vale,  with  a  choice  few  retired,  1235 

Drinks  the  pure  pleasures  of  the  rural  life. 

What  though  the  dome  be  wanting,  whose  proud  gate, 

Each  morning,  vomits  out  the  sneaking  crowd 

Of  flatterers  false,  and  in  their  turn  abused  ? 

Vile  intercourse  !     What  though  the  glittering  robe      1240 

Of  every  hue  reflected  light  can  give,  * 

Or  floating  loose,  or  stiff  with  mazy  gold, 

The  pride  and  gaze  of  fools  !  oppress  him  not  ? 

What  though,  from  utmost  land  and  sea  purveyed, 

For  him  each  rarer  tributary  life  1245 

Bleeds  not,  and  his  insatiate  table  heaps 

With  luxury,  and  death  ?     What  though  his  bowl  / 

Flames  not  with  costly  juice ;  nor  sunk  in  beds, 

Oft  of  gay  care,  he  tosses  out  the  night, 

Or  melts  the  thoughtless  hours  in  idle  state?  1250 

What  though  he  knows  not  those  fantastic  joys, 

That  still  amuse  the  wanton,  still  deceive ; 

A  face  of  pleasure,  but  a  heart  of  pain ; 

Their  hollow  moments  undelisrhted  all  ? 

o 

Sure  peace  is  his ;  a  solid  life,  estranged  1255 

To  disappointment,  and  fallacious  hope ; 

Rich  in  content,  in  Nature's  bounty  rich, 

In  herbs  and  fruits.     Whatever  greens  the  Spring, 


254  AUTUMN. 

When  heaven  descends  in  showers ;  or  bends  the  bough 
When  Summer  reddens,  and  when  Autumn  beams;     1260 
Or  in  the  Wintry  glebe  whatever  lies 
Conceal'd,  and  fattens  with  the  richest  sap : 
These  are  not  wanting  ;  nor  the  milky  drove, 
^<Luxunant,  spread  o'er  all  the  lowing  vale ; 

Nor  bleating  mountains ;  nor  the  chide  of  streams,       1265 

And  hum  of  bees,  inviting  sleep  sincere 

Into  the  guiltless  breast,  beneath  the  shade, 

Or  thrown  at  large  amid  the  fragrant  hay. 

Nor  aught  besides  of  prospect,  grove,  or  song, 

Dim  grottoes,  gleaming  lakes,  and  fountains  clear.         1270 

Here  too  dwells  simple  Truth ;  plain  Innocence ; 

Unsullied  Beauty ;  sound  unbroken  Youth, 

Patient  of  labor,  with  a  little  pleased ; 

Health  ever  blooming  ;  unambitious  Toil, 

/7 Calm  Contemplation,  and  poetic  Ease.  1275 

Let  others  brave  the  flood  in  quest  of  gain, 
And  beat,  for  joyless  months,  the  gloomy  wave: 
Let  such  as  deem  it  glory  to  destroy, 
Rush  into  blood,  the  sack  of  cities  seek ; 
Unpierced,  exulting  in  the  widow's  wail,  1280 

The  virgin's  shriek,  and  infant's  trembling  cry : 
Let  some,  far  distant  from  their  native  soil, 
Urged  or  by  want  or  harden'd  avarice, 
Find  other  lands  beneath  another  sun : 
Let  this  through  cities  work  his  eager  way,  1285 

By  legal  outrage  and  establish'd  guile, 
The  social  sense  extinct ;  and  that  ferment 
Mad  into  tumult  the  seditious  herd, 
Or  melt  them  down  to  slavery :  let  these 
Insnare  the  wretched  in  the  toils  of  law,  1290 

Fomenting  discord,  and  perplexing  right, 
An  iron  race  !  and  those  of  fairer  front, 
But  equal  inhumanity,  in  courts, 


/ 


AUTUMN.  255 

j 

HjDelusive_pomp.  and  dark  cabals,  delight ; 

Wreathe  the  deep  bow,  diffuse  the  lying  smile,  1295 

•  And  tread  the  weary  labyrinth  of  state : — 

While  he,  from  all  the  stormy  passions  free 

That  restless  men  involve,  hears,  and  but  hears, 

At  distance  safe,  the  human  tempest  roar, 
I  Wrapp'd  close  in  conscious  peace.     The  fall  of  kings,     1300 

The  rage  of  nations,  and  the  crush  of  states, 

Move  not  the  man  who,  from  the  world  escaped, 

In  still  retreats,  and  flowery  solitudes, 

To  Nature's  voice  attends,  from  month  to  month 

And  day  to  day,  through  the  revolving  year:  1305 

Admiring,  sees  her  in  her  every  shape ; 

Feels  all  her  sweet  emotions  at  his  heart ; 

Takes  what  she  liberal  gives,  nor  thinks  of  more. 

He,  when  young  Spring  protrudes  the  bursting  gems, 

Marks  the  first  bud,  and  sucks  the  healthful  gale          1310 

Into  his  freshened  soul.     Her  genial  hours 
j  He  full  enjoys ;  and  not  a  beauty  blows, 

And  not  an  opening  blossom  breathes  in  vain. 

In  Summer  he,  beneath  the  living  shade, 

Such  as  o'er  frigid  Tempe  wont  to  wave,  1315 

Or  Hemus  cool,  reads  what  the  Muse,  of  these, 

Perhaps,  has  in  immortal  numbers  sung ; 

Or  what  she  dictates  writes :  and,  oft  an  eye 

Shot  round,  rejoices  in  the  vigorous  year. 

When  Autumn's  yellow  lustre  gilds  the  world,  1320 

And  tempts  the  sickled  swain  into  the  field, 

Seized  by  the  general  joy,  his  heart  distends 

With  gentle  throes ;  and,  through  the  tepid  gleams 

Deep  musing,  then  he  best  exerts  his  song. 


1315.  Tempe:  See  note  on  line  906,  "Spring." 

1316.  Hemus:  Turn  to  note  on  783,  "Autumn." 

1324.  This  line  would  suggest  to  us  that  Thomson  found  the  season  of 


./*.*  - 

.^ 

256  AUTUMN. 

E'en  Winter  wild,  to  him  is  full  of  bliss.  1325 

The  mighty  tempest,  and  the  hoary  waste, 

Abrupt  and  deep,  stretch'd  o'er  the  buried  earth, 

Awake  to  solemn  thought.     At  night  the  skies 

Disclosed,  and  kindled  by  refining  frost, 

Pour  every  lustre  on  th'  exalted  eye.  1330 

IA  friend,  a  book,  the  stealing  hours  secure, 

And  mark  them  down  for  wisdom.     With  swift  wing, 

O'er  land  and  sea  imagination  roams ; 

Or  truth,  divinely  breaking  on  his  mind, 

Elates  his  being,  and  unfolds  his  powers;  1335 

Or  in  his  breast  heroic-  virtue  burns. 

The  touch  of  kindred  too  and  love  he  feels ; 

The  modest  eye,  whose  beams  on  his  alone 

Ecstatic  shine ;  the  little  strong  embrace 

Of  prattling  children,  twined  around  his  neck,  1340 

And  emulous  to  please  him,  calling  forth 

The  fond  parental  soul.     Nor  purpose  gay, 

Amusement,  dance,  or  song,  he  sternly  scorns ; 
-.  For  happiness  and  true  philosophy 

i  Are  of  the  social,  still,  and  smiling  kind.  1345 

|  This  is  the  life  which  those  who  fret  in  guilt, 
nd  guilty  cities,  never  knew ;  the  life, 

Led  by  primeval  ages,  uncorrupt, 

When  Angels  dwelt,  and  GOD  himself  with  man ! 
.     Oh  Nature  !  all-sufficient !  over  all !  1350 

I  Enrich  me  with  the  knowledge  of  thy  works ! 

Snatch  me  to  heaven.     Thy  rolling  wonders  there, 

World  beyond  world,  in  infinite  extent, 

Profusely  scatter'd  o'er  the  blue  immense,    5-     : 

Autumn  best  adapted  to  awaken  poetic  inspiration  and  to  facilitate  poetic 
compositions. 

1350.  Nature:  The  Author  of  nature,  under  this  term,  is  here  ad- 
dressed ;  for  to  Him  alone,  and  not  to  the  universe  created  by  Him  and 
ever  dependent  on  Him,  can  the  language  here  used  be  justly  applied. 


AUTUMN.  257 

Show  me;  their  motions,  periods,  and  their  laws,         1355 
Give  me  to  scan ;  through  the  disclosing  deep 
JLight  my  blind  way.     The  mineral  strata  there ; 
Thrust,  blooming,  thence  the  vegetable  world ; 
O'er  that  the  rising  system,  more  complex, 

*0f  animals ;  and  higher  still,  the  mind,  1360 

The  varied  scene  of  quick- compounded  thought, 
And  where  the  mixing  passions  endless  shift : 
These^ever  open  to  my  ravish'd  eye ; 
A  search  the  flight  of  time  can  ne'er  exhaust ! 
But  if  to  that  unequal ;  if  the  blood,  1365 

In  sluggish  streams  about  my  heart,  forbid 

f That  best  ambition;  under  closing  shades, 
Inglorious,  lay  me  by  the  lowly  brook, 
And  whisper  to  my  dreams.     From  Thee  begin, 
Dwell  all  on  Thee,  with  Thee  conclude  my  song  ;         1370 
And  let  me  never,  never  stray  from  Thee  ! 


W 


WINTER, 


INTEODUCTOKY  KEMAKKS. 

WINTER,  directly  opposite  as  it  is  in  other  respects  to  Summer, 
yet  resembles  it  in  this,  that  it  is  a  season  in  which  Nature  is 
employed  rather  in  secretly  preparing  for  the  mighty  changes 
which  it  successively  brings  to  light,  than  in  the  actual  exhibi- 
tion of  them.  It  is,  therefore,  a  period  equally  barren  of  events, 
and  has  still  less  of  animation  than  Summer,  inasmuch  as  lethar- 
gic insensibility  is  a  state  more  distant  from  vital  energy  than 
the  languor  of  indolent  repose.  From  the  fall  of  the  leaf  and 
withering  of  the  herb,  an  unvarying  death-like  torpor  oppresses 
almost  the  whole  vegetable  creation,  and  #  considerable  part  of 
the  animal,  during  this  entire  portion  of  the  year.  The  whole 
insect  race,  which  filled  every  part  of  the  Summer  landscape  with 
life  and  motion,  are  now  either  buried  in  profound  sleep,  or  ac- 
tually no  longer  exist,  except  in  the  unformed  rudiments  of  a 
future  progeny.  Many  of  the  birds  and  quadrupeds  are  retired 
to  concealments  from  which  not  even  the  calls  of  hunger  can 
force  them ;  and  the  rest,  intent  only  on  the  preservation  of  a 
joyless  being,  have  ceased  to  exert  those  powers  of  pleasing, 
which,  at  other  seasons,  so  much  contribute  to  their  mutual  hap- 
piness, as  well  as  to  the  amusement  of  their  human  sovereign. 
Their  social  connections,  however,  are  improved  by  their  wants. 
In  order  the  better  to  procure  their  scanty  subsistence  and  resist 
the  inclemencies  of  the  sky,  they  are  taught  by  instinct  to  assem- 
ble in  flocks ;  and  this  provision  has  the  secondary  effect  of 
gratifying  the  spectator  with  something  of  novelty  and  action 
even  in  the  dreariness  of  a  winter  prospect. 


262  WINTER INTRODUCTORY   REMARKS. 

But  it  is  in  the  extraordinary  changes  and  agitations  which 
the  elements  and  the  surrounding  atmosphere  undergo  during 
this  season,  that  the  poet  of  nature  must  principally  look  for 
relief  from  the  gloomy  uniformity  reigning  through  other  parts 
of  the  creation.  Here  scenes  are  presented  to  his  view,  which, 
were  they  less  frequent,  must  strike  with  wonder  and  admiration 
the  most  incurious  spectator.  The  effects  of  cold  are  more  sud- 
den, and  in  many  instances  more  extraordinary  and  unexpected, 
than  those  of  heat.  He  who  has  beheld  the  vegetable  products 
of  even  a  northern  summer,  will  not  be  greatly  amazed  at  the 
richer  and  more  luxuriant,  but  still  resembling,  growths  of  the 
tropics.  But  one  who  has  always  been  accustomed  to  view 
water  in  a  liquid  and  colorless  state,  cannot  form  the  least  con- 
ception of  the  same  element  as  hardened  into  an  extensive  plain 
of  solid  crystal,  or  covering  the  ground  with  a  robe  of  the  purest 
white.  The  highest  possible  degree  of  astonishment  must  there- 
fore attend  the  first  view  of  these  phenomena :  and  as  in  the 
temperate  climate  of  Britain  but  a  small  portion  of  the  year 
affords  these  spectacles,  we  find  that  even  in  this  island  they 
have  novelty  enough  to  excite  emotions  of  agreeable  surprise. 

But  it  is  not  to  novelty  alone  that  they  owe  their  charms. 
Their  intrinsic  beauty  is,  perhaps,  individually  superior  to  that 
of  the  gayest  objects  presented  by  the  other  seasons.  Where  is 
the  elegance  and  brilliancy  that  can  compare  with  that  which 
decorates  every  tree  or  bush  on  the  clear  morning  succeeding  a 
night  of  hoar  frost  ?  or  what  is  the  lustre  that  would  not  appear 
dull  and  tarnished  in  competition  with  a  field  of  snow  just  glazed 
over  with  frost  ?  By  the  vivid  description  of  such  objects  as 
these,  contrasted  with  the  savage  sublimity  of  storms  and  tem- 
pests, our  poet  has  been  able  to  produce  a  set  of  winter  land- 
scapes as  engaging  to  the  fancy  as  the  apparently  happier  scenes 
of  genial  warmth  and  verdure. 

But  he  has  not  trusted  entirely  to  these  resources  for  combat- 
ing the  natural  sterility  of  Winter.  Repeating  the  pleasing  ar- 
tifice of  his  Summer,  he  has  called  in  foreign  aid,  and  has 


WINTER — INTRODUCTORY   REMARKS.  263 

heightened  the  scenery  with  grandeur  and  horror  not  belonging 
to  Britain.  The  famished  troops  of  wolves  pouring  from  the 
Alps ;  the  mountains  of  snow  rolling  down  the  precipices  of  the 
same  regions ;  the  dreary  plains  over  which  the  Laplander  urges 
his  reindeer ;  the  wonders  of  the  icy  sea,  and  volcanoes  "  flaming 
through  a  waste  of  snow,"  are  objects  judiciously  selected  from 
all  that  Nature  presents  most  singular  and  striking  in  the  various 
domains  of  boreal  cold  and  wintry  desolation. 

AIKIN. 


The  general  aspect  of  Winter  is  forbidding.  It  is  the  night 
of  the  year;  the  period  when,  under  a  mitigated  light,  Nature 
reposes  after  the  active  exertions  of  Spring  and  Summer  have 
been  crowned  with  the  rich  stores  of  Autumn.  We  now  no 
longer  survey  with  admiration  and  delight  those  wonders  of 
creative  power  which  arrested  our  attention  in  that  youthful 
season  when  herbs,  plants,  and  trees  awoke  from  their  long  sleep 
and  started  into  new  life,  under  the  kindly  influences  of  warmer 
suns  and  gentler  breezes ;  and  when  the  feathered  tribes  made 
the  fresh-clothed  woods  and  lawns,  and  the  blue  sky  itself,  vocal 
with  the  music  of  love  and  joy.  Nor  do  we  now  expatiate  in 
the  maturer  beauties  of  Summer,  when  light  and  heat  flushed 
the  glowing  heavens  and  smiling  earth,  and  when  the  clouds 
distilled  their  grateful  showers,  or  tempered  the  intense  radiance 
by  their  flitting  shade.  And  mellow  Autumn,  too,  has  passed 
away,  along  with  the  merry  song  of  the  reapers  and  the  hum  of 
busy  men,  gathering  their  stores  from  the  teeming  fields. 

Instead  of  these  genial  influences  of  heaven,  our  lengthening 
nights,  and  our  days  becoming  perpetually  darker  and  shorter, 
shed  their  gloom  over  the  face  of  nature;  the  earth  grows  nig- 
gardly of  her  supplies  of  nourishment  and  shelter,  and  no  longer 
spreads  beneath  the  tenants  of  the  field  the  soft  carpet  on  which 
they  were  accustomed  to  repose ;  man  seeks  his  artificial  com- 
forts and  his  hoarded  food  ;  the  wind  whistles  ominously  through 


264:  WINTER — INTRODUCTORY   REMARKS. 

the  naked  trees ;  the  dark  clouds  lower ;  the  chilling  rain  de- 
scends in  torrents  ;  and,  as  the  season  advances,  the  earth  be- 
comes rigid  as  if  struck  by  the  wand  of  an  enchanter ;  the  wa- 
ters, spell-bound,  lie  motionless  in  crystal  chains;  the  north 
pours  forth  its  blast,  and  nature  is  entombed  in  a  vast  cemetery, 
whiter  and  colder  than  Parian  marble. 

Yet,  even  in  this  apparently  frightful  and  inhospitable  season, 
there  are  means  of  pleasure  and  improvement  which  render  it 
scarcely  inferior  to  any  other  period  of  the  revolving  year ; 
while  proofs  of  the  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  of  the  great 
Creator  are  not  less  abundantly  displayed  to  the  mind  of  the 
pious  inquirer.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  worthy  of  admi- 
ration than  the  manner  in  which  the  rigors  of  winter  are  tem- 
pered, so  as  to  contribute  to  the  subsistence  and  comfort  of 
living  beings. 

DR.  DUNCAN. 


Poetry,  which  though  not  dead,  had  long  been  sleeping  in 
Scotland,  was  restored  to  waking  life  by  Thomson.  His  genius 
was  national ;  and  so,  too,  was  the  subject  of  his  first  and  great- 
est song.  By  saying  that  his  genius  was  national,  we  mean 
that  its  temperament  was  enthusiastic  and  passionate  ;  and  that, 
though  highly  imaginative,  the  sources  of  its  power  lay  in  the 
heart.  The  Castle  of  Indolence  is  distinguished  by  purer  taste 
and  finer  fancy ;  but  with  all  its  exquisite  beauties,  that  poem  is 
but  the  vision  of  a  dream.  The  Seasons  are  glorious  realities  ;- 
and  the  charm  of  the  strain  that  sings  the  "  rolling  year"  is  its 
truth.  But  what  mean  we  by  saying  that  the  Seasons  are  a  na- 
tional subject  ?  Do  we  assert  that  they  are  solely  Scottish  ? 
That  would  be  too  bold,  even  for  us ;  but  we  scruple  not  to  as- 
sert, that  Thomson  has  made  them  so,  as  far  as  might  be,  with- 
out insult,  injury,  or  injustice  to  the  rest  of  the  globe.  His  suns 
rise  and  set  in  Scottish  heavens:  his  "deep-fermenting  tempests, 
are  brewed  in  grim  evening"  Scottish  skies;  Scottish  is  his 


WINTER INTRODUCTORY   REMARKS.  265 

thunder  of  cloud  and  cataract ;  his  "  vapors,  and  snows,  and 
storms/'  are  Scottish ;  and,  strange  as  the  assertion  would  have 
sounded  in  the  ears  of  Samuel  Johnson,  Scottish  are  his  woods, 
their  sough,  and  their  roar ;  nor  less  their  stillness,  more  awful 
amidst  the  vast  multitude  of  steady  stems,  than  when  all  the 
sullen  pine-tops  are  swinging  to  the  hurricane.  A  dread  love 
of  his  native  land  was  in  his  heart  when  he  cried  in  the  solitude  : 

"  Hail,  kindred  glooms  1  congenial  horrors  hail  1" 

PROF.  WILSON. 


12 


r. 


THE  AEGUMENT. 

The  subject  proposed.— Address  to  the  Earl  of  Wilmington.— First  approach  of  Winter. 
— According  to  the  natural  course  of  the  season,  various  storms  described. — Earn. — 
•\Vind. — Snow. — The  driving  of  the  snows ;  a  man  perishing  among  them ;  whence 
reflections  on  the  wants  and  miseries  of  human  life. — The  wolves  descending  from 
the  Alps  and  Apennines. — A  winter  evening  described ;  as  spent  by  philosophers ;  by 
the  country  people ;  in  the  city.— Frost— A  view  of  Winter  within  the  polar  circle. — 
A  thaw. — The  whole  concluding  with  moral  reflections  on  a  future  state. 


SEE  !  WINTER  comes  to  rule  the  varied  year, 
Sullen  and  sad,  with  all  his  rising  train ; 
Vapors,  and  clouds,  and  storms.     Be  these  my  theme ; 
These,  that  exalt  the  soul  to  solemn  thought, 

1-1 6.  Upon  this  passage  Prof.  Wilson  exclaims : — Divine  inspiration  in- 
deed !     Poetry,  that  if  reacTEy I'nTTedside  of  a  dying  lover  of  nature, 

might 

"  Create  a  soul 
Under  the  ribs  of  death !" 

To  this  exclamation,  the  professor  subjoins  some  admirable  strictures  upon 
the  assertion  of  Wordsworth,  that  the  true  spirit  of  the  "  Seasons,"  till 
long  after  their  publication,  was  neither  felt  nor  understood :  that  the 
measure  of  its  early  popularity  was  to  be  attributed  to  a  "  blind  wonder- 
ment, the  natural  produce  of  ignorance,"  to  the  fortunate  title  which  he 
bad  selected  for  his  Poem,  and  to  the  abundant  use  of  false  ornaments  of 
that  kind  which  would  be  most  likely  to  strike  the  undiscerning,  and,  fur- 
ther, to  the  sentimental  common-places,  which,  from  the  manner  in  which 
'they  were  brought  forward,  bore  an  imposing  air  of  novelty. 


268  WINTER. 

/  And  heavenly  musing.     Welcome,  kindred  glooms,  5 

I  Congenial  horrors,  hail !     With  frequent  jfoqt, 
f   Pleased  have  1?  in  my  cheerful  morn  of  life, 
When  nursed  by  careless  solitude  I  lived, 

The  substance  jof  the  strictures  is,  that  though  descriptive  poetry  may 
not  have  flourished  during  the  period  between  Paradise  Lost  and  the 
Seasons,  mankind,  nevertheless,  had  been  in  the  enjoyment  and  use  of 
their  seven  senses,  and  could  see  and  hear  without  the  aid  of  those  ocu- 
lists and  aurists,  the  poets ;  that  the  shepherds  and  agriculturists  of  Eng- 
land and  Scotland — the  gentlemen  and  ladies,  the  king  and  queen — had 
Dot  been  blind  and  deaf  to  all  the  sights  and  sounds  of  nature — had  not 
forgotten  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  until  Thomson  reminded  them  of 
them ;  that,  as  to  the  title  of  the  Poem,  Genius  and  not  Fortune  had  se- 
lected it — that  the  "  Seasons"  are  not  merely  the  "  title"  of  his  poem — 
but  the  Seasons  are  his  poem,  and  his  poem  is  the  Seasons ;  further,  that 
if  men  knew  little,  and  cared  less  about  the  Seasons,  as  Wordsworth  as- 
serted, both  the  title  and  the  substance  of  the  Poem  would  have  been 
unfortunate  for  its  popularity:  that  Thomson,  in  his  Seasons,  often  writes 
in  bad  taste,  is  true,  but  it  is  not  true  that  he  always,  or  generally,  does 
so ;  that  many  did,  do,  and  will  admire  the  bad  or  indifferent  passages  in 
the  Seasons,  won  by  their  false  glitter,  or  common-place  sentimentalism — 
such  passages  for  example  as  the  story  of  Damon  and  Musidora — is,  no 
doubt  true ;  but  this  will  not  account  for  the  admiration  with  which  the 
whole  world  hailed  the  "  Winter,"  the  first  of  the  Seasons  published, 
during  which  Thomson  had  not  the  barbarity  to  plunge  every  young  lady 
naked  into  the  cold  bath,  nor  the  ignorance  to  represent,  during  such  cold 
weather,  any  young  lady  turning  her  lover  sick  by  the  ardor  of  her  looks, 
and  the  vehemence  of  her  whole  enamored  deportment. 

Prof.  Wilson  goes  on  to  say : — There  is  no  mystery  in  the  matter — 
Thomson,  a  great  poet,  poured  his  genius  over  a  subject  of  universal  in- 
terest ;  and  the  "  Seasons,"  from  that  hour  to  this — then,  now,  and  for- 
ever— have  been,  are,  and  will  be,  loved  and  admired  by  all  the  world. 
Let  the  taste  and  feelings  shown  by  the  collectors  of  Elegant_  Extracts 
be  poor  as  possible,  yet  Thomson's  countrymen,  high  and  low,  rich  and 
poor,  have  all  along  not  only  gloried  in  his  illustrious  fame,  but  have 
made  a  very  manual  of  his  great  work.  We  have  ourselves  seen  it  in  the 
shepherd's  sheiling,  and  in  the  woodman's  bower — small,  yellow-leaved, 
tattered,  mean,  miserable,  calf-skin-bound,  smoked  copies — yet  perused, 
pored,  and  pondered  over  by  those  humble  dwellers,  by  the  winter-ingle 
or  the  summer  brae,  perhaps  with  as  enlightened,  certainly  with  as  ira 
agination-mastering,  a  delight,  as  ever  enchained  the  spirits  of  the  high- 
born and  highly  taught  to  their  splendid  copies  lying  on  riclily  carved 
tables,  and  bound  in  crimson  silk  or  velvet.  "  The  art  of  seeing"  has 


WLNTEK,  269 

And  sung  of  Nature  with  unceasing  joy, 

Pleased  have  I  wander'd  through  your  rough  domain;     10 

Trod  the  pure  virgin-snows,  myself  as  pure ; 

Heard  the  winds  roar,  and  the  big  torrent  burst ; 

Or  seen  the  deep- fermenting  tempest  brew'd, 

In  the  grim  evening  sky.     Thus  pass'd  the  time, 

Till  through  the  lucid  chambers  of  the  south  15 

Look'd  out  the  joyous  Spring,  look'd  out,  and  smiled. 

ADDRESS    TO    THE    EARL  OF   WILMINGTON. 

To  thee,  the  patron  of  her  first  essay, 
The  Muse,  0  Wilmington  !  renews  her  song. 


flourished  for  many  centuries  in  Scotland.  Men,  women,  and  children,  all 
look  up  to  her  lovely  blue  or  wrathful  black  skies  with  a  weather-wis- 
dom that  keeps  growing  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  In  like  manner 
have  the  people  of  Scotland,  from  time  immemorial,  enjoyed  the  use  of 
their  ears.  Even  persons  somewhat  hard  of  hearing,  are  not  deaf  to  her 
waterfalls.  In  the  sublime  invocation  to  Winter,  which  we  have  quoted, 
we  hear  Thomson  recording  his  own  worship  of  Nature  in  his  boyish  days, 
when  he  roamed  among  the  hills  of  his  father's  parish,  far  away  from  the 
manse. 

11.  Myself  as  pure :  Thomson  was  religiously  educated;  his  childhood 
was  passed  in  scenes  free  from  temptation  to  gross  vice ;  his  mind  was 
early  turned  to  the  contemplation  of  the  uncorrupting  phenomena  of 
physical  Nature  in  her  beauty  and  variety — a  healthful  and  ennobling 
occupation  for  the  mind  and  heart ;  and  no  doubt  in  his  boyhood  he  was 
exempt  from  outward  immoralities ;  but  he  was  greatly  deceived  in  the 
favorable  estimate  here  expressed  of  his  moral  character  at  that  period, 
if  it  be  brought  to  the  standard  of  the  divine  law,  which  is  "  exceeding 
broad,"  and,  in  its  searchings,  deep  and  thorough  into  the  human  heart. 
.The  Bible  leads  us  to  a  quite  different  estimate  from  that  here  put  upon 
himself. 

18.  Wilmington:  Sir  Spencer  Compton,  then  speaker  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  afterwards  Earl  of  Wilmington,  to  whom  the  second  edi- 
tion of  "  Winter"  was  dedicated,  bringing  to  the  author  a  present,  from 
the  earl,  of  twenty  guineas.  "Winter"  was  the  "first  essay"  of  Thom- 
son's Muse.  The  lines  that  follow  could  not,  obviously,  have  appeared  in 
the  first  edition,  as  they  refer  to  other  parts  of  the  Poem  not  then  pub- 
lished or  even  composed.  For  the  first  edition  of  "  Winter"  the  author 


270  WINTER. 

Since  has  she  rounded  the  revolving  year ; 

Skimm'd  the  gay  Spring  ;  on  eagle  pinions  borne,  20 

Attempted  through  the  Summer  blaze  to  rise  ; 

Then  swept  o'er  Autumn  with  the  shadowy  gale ; 

And  now  among  the  Wintry  clouds  again, 

Roll'd  in  the  doubling  storm,  she  tries  to  soar ; 

To  swell  her  note  with  all  the  rushing  winds  ;  25 

To  suit  her  sounding  cadence  to  the  floods. 

o 

As  is  her  theme,  her  numbers  wildly  great : 

Thrice  happy  could  she  fill  thy  judging  ear 

With  bold  description  and  with  manly  thought. 

Nor  art  thou  skill'd  in  awful  schemes  alone,  80 

And  how  to  make  a  mighty  people  thrive ; 

But  equal  goodness,  sound  integrity, 

A  firm  unshaken,  uncorrupted  soul 

Amid  a  sliding  age,  and  burning  strong 

Qsot  vainly  blazing)  for  thy  country's  weal,  35 

A  steady  spirit  regularly  free  ; 

These,  each  exalting  each,  the  statesman  light 

Into  the  patriot ;  these,  the  public  hope 

And  eye  to  thee  converting,  bid  the  Muse 

Record  what  envy  dares  not  flattery  call.  40 

fr 

THE    FIRST    APPROACH    OF    WINTER.  PA 

Now  when  the  cheerless  empire  of  the  sky 
!  To  Capricorn  the  Centaur  Archer  yields, 

received  but  three  guineas ;  and  it  remained  unsold  until  Mr.  Whately,  a 
gentleman  of  taste,  and  an  author,  discerned  its  beauties  and  talked  about' 
them  in  the  literary  circles  he  was  accustomed  to  visit. 

When  fairly  brought  into  public  notice,  "  Winter,"  we  are  informed, 
was  universally  admired,  and  its  reputation  gained  for  the  author  the  ac-' 
quaintance  of  several  ladies  of  rank  ;  but  the  most  valuable  effect  of  this 
publication  was  the  friendship  of  Dr.  Thomas  Rundle,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  Derry,  by  whom  his  fame  was  promoted,  and  an  introduction  given  to 
Sir  Charles,  subsequently  Lord  Chancellor,  Talbot,  which  rendered  to  the 
poet  very  essential  service. 


WINTER.  271 

And  fierce  Aquarius  stains  th'  inverted  year ; 

Ehing  o'er  the  furthest  verge  of  heaven,  the  sun 

Scarce  spreads  through  ether  the  dejected  day.  45 

Faint  are  his  gleams,  and  ineffectual  shoot 

His  struggling  rays,  in  horizontal  lines, 

Through  the  thick  air ;  as  clothed  in  cloudy  storm, 

Weak,  wan,  and  broad,  he  skirts  the  southern  sky  ; 

And,  soon  descending,  to  the  long,  dark  night,  50 

Wide  shading  all,  the  prostrate  world  resigns. 

Nor  is  the  night  unwish'd  ;  while  vital  heat, 

Light,  life,  and  joy  the  dubious  day  forsake. 

Meantime,  in  sable  cincture,  shadows  vast, 

Deep-tinged  and  damp,  and  congregated  clouds,  55 

42.  Capricorn :  The  Wild  Goat,  the  first  of  the  Winter  signs  of  the 
Zodiac,  into  which  the  Sun  introduces  himself  on  the  21st  of  December. 
The  one  preceding  it  is  Sagittarius,  the  Archer,  usually  represented  on 
celestial  globes  and  maps  by  the  figure  of  a  Centaur  shooting  an  arrow. 
The  Centaur — an  animal,  half  man,  half  horse — was  one  of  the  fabulous 
creations  of  the  ancient  Greeks. 

43.  Aquarius:  The  Water-bearer,  is  the  Winter  sign  next  to  Capri- 
corn.    A  part  of  January  and  of  February  is  occupied  by  the  sun  in  pass- 
ing through  this  sign.    During  this  portion  of  the  year  excessive  rains  fall 
in  the  latitude  of  the  countries  of  Europe  and  Asia,  where  the  signs  of 
the  Zodfac  first  received  their  present  names.     The  name  of  this  sign 
is  thus  accounted  for.     Read  on  (72-105) ;   whence  it  appears  that   in 
Britain  also  the  name  of   this  sign  is  not  inappropriate.      Brande  (an 
English  author)  makes  the  four  seasons  of  the  year  to  commence,  respec- 
tively, on  the  21st  of  March,  22d  of  June,  23d  of  September,  23d  of  De- 
cember, when  the  sun  enters  the  signs  Aries,  Cancer,  Libra,  and  Capricorn. 

Inverted  year  :  The  year  going  backwards,  so  far  as  production,  growth, 
or  beauty  is  concerned.     Dryden  had  employed  the  same  expression — 

"  And  winter  storms  invert  the  year" 

The  retrograding  process  of  nature  is-  stained,  rendered  unseemljs,  marred, 
by  the  falling  rains  of  winter.  The  dejected  day  (45)  expresses  the  gloomy 
aspect  of  the  winter  day,  during  the  passage  of  the  sun  through  Aqua- 
rius— shedding  but  little  light,  because,  even  at  his  meridian  height,  hung 
o'er  the  furthest  verge  of  heaven  ;  that  is,  not  far  above  the  horizon. 

50.  Long  night :  In  the  latitude  of  Great  Britain,  between  fifteen  and 
sixteen  hours  long. 


272  WINTEB. 

And  all  the  vapory  turbulence  of  heaven, 

Involve  the  face  of  things.     Thus  Winter  falls, 

A  heavy  gloom,  oppressive  o'er  the  world, 

Through  Nature  shedding  influence  malign, 

And  rouses  up  the  seeds  of  dark  disease.  60 

The  soul  of  man  dies  in  him,  loathing  life, 

And  black  with  more  than  melancholy  views. 

The  cattle  droop  ;  and  o'er  the  furrow'd  land, 

Fresh  from  the  plough,  the  dun  discolor'd  flocks, 

Untended  spreading,  crop  the  wholesome  root.  65 

Along  the  woods,  along  the  moorish  fens, 

Sighs  the  sad  genius  of  the  coming  storm  : 

And  up  among  the  loose  disjointed  cliffs, 

And  fractured  mountains  wild,  the  brawling  brook 

And  cave  presageful,  send  a  hollow  moan,  70 

Resounding  long  in  listening  Fancy's  ear. 

CHEERLESS    RAIN-STORM. 

Then  comes  the  father  of  the  tempest  forth, 
Wrapp'd  in  black  glooms.     First,  joyless  rains  obscure 
Drive  through  the  mingling  skies  with  vapor  foul  ; 
Dash  on  the  mountain's  brow,  and  shake  the  woods,        75 
That  grumbling  wave  below.     Th'  unsightly  plain 
Lies  a  brown  deluge  ;  as  the  low  bent  clouds 
Pour  flood  on  flood,  yet  unexhausted,  still 
Combine,  and  deepening  into  night,  shut  up 
The  day's  fair  face^/The  wanderers  of  heaven,  80 

Each  to  his  home,  retire ;  save  those  that  love 
To  take  their  pastime  in  the  troubled  air, 
Or  skimming  flutter  round  the  dimply  pool. 
The  cattle  from  th'  untasted  fields  return, 
And  ask,  with  meaning  low,  their  wonted  stalls  ;  85 

Or  ruminate  in  the  contiguous  shade. 
Thither  the  household,  feathery  people  crowd, 


WINTER.  273 

The  crested  cock,  with  all  his  female  train, 

Pensive,  and  dripping !  while  the  cottage  hind 

Hangs  o'er  th'  enlivening  blaze,  and  taleful  there  90 

Recounts  his  simple  frolic.     Much  he  talks, 

And  much  he  laughs,  nor  recks  the  storm  that  blows 

Without,  and  rattles«on  his  humble  roof. 

Wide  o'er  the  brim,  with  many  a  torrent  swell'd, 
And  the  mix'd  ruin  of  its  banks  o'erspread,  95 

At  last  the  roused-up  river  pours  along. 
Resistless,  roaring,  dreadful,  down  it  comes, 
From  the  rude  mountain,  and  the  mossy  wild, 
Tumbling  through  rocks  abrupt,  and  sounding  far ; 
Then  o'er  the  sanded  valley  floating  spreads,  100 

Calm,  sluggish,  silent ;  till  again,  constrain'd 
i  Between  two  meeting  hills,  it  bursts  away, 
Where  rocks  and  woods  o'erhang  the  turbid  stream ; 
There  gathering  triple  force,  rapid,  and  deep, 
It  boils,  and  wheels,  and  foams,  and  thunders  through.  105 


WINTER    TEMPESTS. 

Nature  !  great  parent !  whose  unceasing  hand 
Rolls  round  the  Seasons  of  the  changeful  year, 
How  mighty,  how  majestic  are  thy  works  ! 
With  what  a  pleasing  dread  they  swell  the  soul ! 
That  sees  astonish'd  !  and  astonish'd  sings  !  110 

Ye  too,  ye  winds !  that  now  begin  to  blow 
With  boisterous  sweep,  I  raise  my  voiaa.jLo» 
Where  are  your  stores,  ye  powerful  beings  !  say, ' 
Where  your  aerial  magazines  reserved, 
To  swell  the  brooding  terrors  of  the  storm?  115 

In  what  far  distant  region  of  the  sky, 
Hush'd  in  deep  silence,  sleep  ye  when  'tis  calm? 

When  from  the  pallid  sky  the  sun  (descends, 
With  many  a  spot  that  o'er  his  glaring  orb 
12* 


u.    I 


274  WINTER. 

Uncertain  wanders,  stain'd;  red,  fiery  streaks  120 

Begin  to  flush  around.     The  reeling  clouds 

S  tagger  jwith  dizzy  poise,  as  doubting  yet 

Which  master  to  obey  ;  while  rising  slow, 

Blank,  in  the  leaden-color'd  east,  the  moon 

Wears  a  wan  circle  round  her  blunted  horns.  125 

Seen  through  the  turbid,  fluctuating  air, 

The  stars  obtuse  emit  a  shiver'd  ray  ; 

Or  frequent  seem  to  shoot  athwart  the  gloom, 

And  long  behind  them  trail  the  whitening  blaze. 

Snatch'd  in  short  eddies,  plays  the  withered  leaf;  130 

And  on  the  flood  the  dancing  feather  floats. 

With  broadened  nostrils  to  the  sky  upturn'd, 

The  conscious  heifer  snuffs  the  stormy  gale. 

E'en  as  the  matron,  at  her  nightly  task, 

With  pensive  labor  draws  the  flaxen  thread,  135 

The  wasted  taper  and  the  crackling  flame 

Foretell  the  blast.     But  chief  the  plumy  race, 

The  tenants  of  the  sky,  its  changes  speak. 

Retiring  from  the  downs,  where  all  day  long 

They  pick'd  their  scanty  fare,  a  blackening  train  140 

Of  clamorous  rooks  thick  urge  their  weary  flight, 

And  seek  the  closing  shelter  of  the  grove. 

Assiduous,  in  his  bower,  the  wailing  owl 

Plies  his  sad  song.     The  cormorant  on  high 

139.  Downs :  It  is  rather  uncertain  whether  the  poet  by  this  term  de- 
notes the  banks  of  sand  washed  up  on  the  sea-coast,  or  the  barren  and 
naked,  hilly  tracts  of  England  devoted  to  pasturage.  As  the  rook  is  said 
to  live  on  insects  and  grubs,  the  latter  is  more  probably  the  signification. 
The  rooks  (a  species  of  the  crow  genus)  are  gregarious  birds,  building 
their  nests  on  the  same  tree,  and  on  contiguous  ones  ;  and  after  the  young 
birds  are  fledged  they  forsake  these  trees,  but  return  to  them  in  October 
to  roost :  in  winter  they  seek  shelter  in  a  compact  grove,  to  which  the 
entire  flock  repairs  every  night. 

144.  The  cormorant,  is  a  voracious  sea-raven,  frequenting  cliffs  on  the 
sea-shore,  and  feeding  on  fish.  The  hern,  or  heron,  is  another  kind  of  sea- 
bird,  of  the  genus  Ardea,  having  long  legs,  long  neck  and  wings,  and 


WINTER.  275 

Wheels  from  the  deep,  and  screams  along  the  land.       145 

Loud  shrieks  the  soaring  hern ;  and  with  wild  wing 

The  circling  sea -fowl  cleave  the  flaky  clouds. 

Ocean,  unequal  press'd,  with  broken  tide 

And  blind  commotion  heaves  ;  while  from  the  shore, 

Eat  into  caverns  by  the  restless  wave,  150 

And  forest-rustling  mountain,  comes  a  voice, 

That  solemn  sounding  bids  the  world  prepare. 

Then  issues  forth  the  storm  with  sudden  burst, 

hurk  tiho'whnlr  precipitated  air 
Down,  in  a  torrent.     On  the  passive  main  155 

Descends  the  ethereal  force,  and  with  strong  gust 
Turns  from  its  bottom  the  discolor'd  deep. 
Through  the  black  night  that  sits  immense  around, 
Lash'd  into  foam,  the  fierce  conflicting  brine 
Seems  o'er  a  thousand  raging  waves  to  burn.  160 

Meantime  the  mountain  billows,  to  the  clouds 
In  dreadful  tumult  swell'd,  surge  above  surge, 
Burst  into"  chaos  with  tremendous  roar, 
And  anchored  navies  from  their  stations  drive, 
Wild  as  the  winds  across  the  howling  waste;     *  165 

Of  mighty  waters.     Now  th'  inflated  wave 
Straining  they  scale,  and  now  impetuous  shoot 
Into  the  secret  chambers  of  the  deep, 
The  wintry  Baltic  thundering  o'er  their  head. 
Emerging  thence  again,  before  the  breath  1*70 

Of  full- exerted  heaven,  they  wing  their  course, 
And  dart  on  distant  coasts ;  if  some  sharp  rock 


subsisting  on  fish.     Sea-fowl  is  a  name  for  all  the  other  varieties  of  birds 
that  derive  their  support  from  the  salt  water. 

159-60.  Fierce  conflicting  brine,  <fcc. :  The  brilliant  appearance  of  the 
6cean  at  night  when  agitated  and  rough,  is  at  certain  times  a  most  mag- 
nificent spectacle.  The  cause  is  not  exactly  ascertained.  Some  suppose 
it  is  occasioned  by  an  immense  number  of  animalculae ;  others  attribute 
it  to  electricity. 


rge», 
ve,  I 

n  ' 


276  WINTER. 

Or  shoal  insidious  break  not  their  career, 

And  in  loose  fragments  fling  them  floating  round. 

Nor  less  at  land  the  loosen'd  tempest  reigns.  175 

The  mountain  thunders  ;  and  its  sturdy  sons 
Stoop  to  the  bottom  of  the  rocks  they  shade. 
Lone  on  the  midnight  steep,  and  all  aghast, 
The  dark  wayfaring  stranger  breathless  toils, 
And,  often  falling,  climbs  against  the  blast.  180 

Low  waves  the  rooted  forest,  vex'd,  and  sheds 
What  of  its  tarnish'd  honors  yet  remain; 
Dash'd  down,  and  scatter'd,  by  the  tearing  wind's 
Assiduous  fury,  its  gigantic  limbs. 

Thus  struggling  through  the  dissipated  grove,  185 

The  whirling  tempest  raves  along  the  plain ; 
And  on  the  cottage  thatcTTd,  o~r  lordly  roof, 
Keen  fastening,  shakes  them  to  the  solid  base. 
Sleep  frighted  flies  ;  and  round  the  rocking  dome, 
For  entrance  eager,  howls  the  savage  blast.  190 

Then,  too,  they  say,  through  all  the  burden'd  air, 
Long  groans  are  heard,  shrill  sounds,  and  distant  sighs, 
That,  utter'd  by  the  Demon  of  the  night, 
Warn  the  devoted  wretch  of  woe  and  death. 

Huge  uproar  lords  it  wide.     The  clouds  commix'd      195 
With  stars  swift  gliding  sweep  along  the  sky. 
All  Nature  reels.     Till  Nature's  King,  who  oft 
Amid  tempestuous  darkness  dwells  alone, 
And  on  the  wings  of  the  careering  wind 
Walks  dreadfully  serene,  commands  a  calm  ;  200 

Then,  straight,  air,  sea,  and  earth  are  hush'd  at  once. 

As  yet  'tis  midnight  deep.     The  weary  clouds, 
Slow  meeting,  mingle  into  solid  glootfit 
Now,  while  the  drowsy  world  lies  lost  in  sleep, 

193.  Demon  of  the  night :  A  mere  creation  of  fancy  or  superstition — 
a  being  supposed  to  preside  in  the  storm,  and  to  warn  those  exposed  t<? 
its  fury. 


WINTER.  277 

Let  me  associate  with  the  serious  Night,  205 

And  Contemplation,  her  sedate  compeer  ; 
Let  me  shake  off  th'  intrusive  cares  of  day, 
And  lay  the  meddling  senses  all  aside. 
Where  now,  ye  lying  vanities  of  life  ! 

Ye  ever  tempting,  ever  cheating  train  !  210 

Where  are  ybu  now  ?  and  what  is  your  amount  ? 
Vexation,  disappointment,  and  remorse  ; 
Sad,  sickening  thought  !  and  yet,  deluded  man, 
A  scene  of  crude  disjointed  visions  past, 
And  broken  slumbers,  rises  still  res6lved,  215 

With  new-flush'd  hopes,  to  run  the  giddy  round. 
I       Father  of  light  and  life  !  thou  Good  Supreme  ! 
£+     0,  teach  me  what  is  good  !  teach  me  Thyself  ! 
y"4   .r.  Save  me  from  folly,  vanity,  and  vice, 

^    '  .    From  every  low  pursuit!  and  feed  my  soul  220 

-       With  knowledge,  conscious  peace,  and  virtue  pure  ; 
|  Sacred,  substantial,  never-fading  bliss  ! 

SNOW    MANTLES     THE     EARTH  '.     DISTURBS    THE     COMFORT    OF 
ANIMALS. 


The  keener  tempests  rise  ;  and  fuming  dun 
From  all  the  livid  east,  or  piercing  north, 
Thick  clouds  ascend  ;  in  whose  capacious  womb  225 

A  vapory  deluge  lies,  to  snow  congeal'd. 
Heavy  they  roll  their  fleecy  world  along, 
And  the  sky  saddens  with  the  gathered  storm. 
Through  the  hush'd  air  the  whitening  shower  descends, 
At  first  thin  wavering  ;  till  at  last  the  flakes  230 

Fall  broad  and  wide  and  fast,  dimming  the  day 

217-22.  Let  every  youth  commit  this  admirable  prayer  to  memory, 
and  make  a  frequent  use  of  it  ;  admirable  as  far  as  it  goes,  though,  of 
course,  some  supplementary  evangelical  petitions  must  be  added,  to  meet 
fully  the  actual  moral  necessities  and  responsibilities  of  each  one's  case. 


278  WINTER. 

With  a  continual  flow.     The  cherish'd  fields 
Put  on  their  winter  robe  of  purest  white. 
'Tis  brightness  all ;  save  where  the  new  snow  melts 
Along  the  mazy  current.     Low  the  woods  235 

Bow  their  hoar  head  ;  and^ere  the  fon^uid  sun 
Faint  from  the  west  emits  his  evening  ray, 
Earth's  universal  face,  deep  hid,  and  chill, 
Is  one  wild  dazzling  waste,  that  buries  wide 
The  works  of  man.     Drooping,  the  laborer-ox  240 

Stands  cover'd  o'er  with  snow,  and  then  demands 
The  fruit  of  alThig  toil.     The  fowls  of  heaven, 
•— -—__—- "~" 

232-5.  Prof.  "Wilson,  in  his  "  Winter  Rhapsody,"  has  some  exquisite  re- 
marks upon  this  and  contiguous  passages  relating  to  snow,  and  to  the  ge- 
nius of  the  author  as  therein  displayed.  Of  the  passage  here  quoted,  he 
says — "  Nothing  can  be  more  vivid.  'Tis  of  the  nature  of  an  ocular  spec- 
trum." So,  on  256-7,  he  observes  : — "Here  is  a  touch  like  one  of  Cow 
per' s.  Note  the  beauty  of  the  epithet  '  brown/  where  all  that  is  motion- 
less is  white. 

4  The  foodless  wilds 
Ponr  forth  their  brown  inhabitants. 

That  one  word  proves  the  poet"  He  then  adds : — "  The  entire  descrip- 
tion, from  which  these  two  passages  are  selected  from  memory,  is  admi- 
rable— except  in  one  or  two  places  where  Thomson  seems  to  have  striven 
to  be  strongly  pathetic,  and  where  he  seems  to  us  to  have  overshot  his 
mark,  and  to  have  ceased  to  be  perfectly  natural.  Thus,  in  240-2,  Droop- 
ing the  ox,  <fec. :  the  image  of  the  ox  is  as  good  as  possible.  We  see  him, 
and  could  paint  him  in  oils.  But,  to  our  mind,  the  notion  of  his  '  de- 
manding the  fruit  of  all  his  toils' — to  which  we  freely  acknowledge  the 
worthy  animal  was  well  entitled — sounds,  as  it  is  here  expressed,  rather 
fantastical.  Call  it  doubtful — for  Jemmy  was  never  utterly  in  the  wrong 
in  any  sentiment.  Again  (261-3),  The  bleating  kind,  &c. :  the  second  line 
(262)  is  perfect ;  but  the  Ettrick  Shepherd  agreed  with  us,  that  the  third 
was  not  quite  perfect.  Sheep,  he  agreed  with  us,  do  not  deliver  them- 
selves up  to  despair  in  any  circumstances ;  and  here  Thomson  transferred 
what  would  have  been  his  own  feeling  in  a  corresponding  condition,  to 
animals  who  dreadlessly  follow  their  instincts.  Thomson  redeems  him- 
self in  what  immediately  succeeds  (263-4) — then,  sad  dispersed,  &,c.  For, 
as  they  disperse,  they  do  look  very  sad — and  no  doubt  are  so — but  had 
they  been  m  despair,  they  would  not  so  readily,  and  constantly,  and  uni- 
formly, and  successfully,  have  taken  to  the  digging — but  whole  flocks  had 
perished." 


WINTER.  279 

Tamed  by  the  cruel  season,  crowd  around 

The  winnowing  store,  and  claim  the  little  boon 

Which  Providence  assigns  them.     One  alone,  245 

jS  O  ' 

The  red-breast,  sacred  to  the  household  gods, 

Wisely  regardful  of  the  embroiling  sky, 

In  joyless  fields  and  thorny  thickets,  leaves 

His  shivering  mates,  and  pays  to  trusted  man 

His  annual  visit.     Half  afraid,  he  first  250 

Against  the  window  beats  ;  then,  brisk,  alights 

On  the  warm  hearth  ;  then,  hopping  o'er  the  floor^, 

Eyes  all  the  smiling  family  askance, 

And  pecks,  and  starts,  and  wonders  where  he  is ; 

Till,  more  familiar  grown,  the  table-crumbs  255 

Attract  his  slender  feet.     The  foodless  wilds, 

Pour  forth  their  brown  inhabitants.     The  hare, 

Though  timorous  of  heart,  and  hard  beset 

By  death  in  various  forms,  dark  snares,  and  dogs, 

And  more  unpitying  men,  the  garden  seeks,  260 

Urged  on  by  fearless  want.     The  bleating  kind 

Eye  the  bleak  heaven,  and  next  the  glistening  earth, 

With  looks  of  dumb  despair ;  then,  sad  dispersed, 

Dig  for  the  wither'd  herb  through  heaps  of  snow. 

Now,  shepherds,  to  your  helpless  charge  be  kind  ;     265 
Baffle  the  raging  year,  and  fill  their  pens 
With  food  at  will ;  lodge  them  below  the  storm, 
And  watch  them  strict :  for  from  the  bellowing  east, 


246.  Household  gods :  An  allusion  to  the  superstition  of  the  ancient 
Romans,  who  imagined  that  there  were  superior  beings,  or  deities,  who 
had  charge  of  their  respective  households  and  of  household  operations. 
These  were  called  Penates,  and  were  worshipped  within  the  dwelling. 
Some  of  these  gods  bore  the  name  of  Lares,  who  were  probably  regarded 
as  the  souls  of  the  deceased  ancestors  of  the  family.  The  phrase  Sacred 
to  the  house-hold  gods,  when  stripped  of  its  Pagan  dress,  means  sacred  to 
the  family  circle — devoted  to  its  gratification,  and  enjoying  its  love  and 
protection. 

268-275.  These  lines  (says  Prof,  Wilson)  are  a  glorious  example  of  the 


280  WINTER. 

In  this  dire  season,  oft  the  whirlwind's  wing 

Sweeps  up  the  burden  of  whole  wintry  plains  2*70 

At  one  wide  waft,  and  o'er  the  hapless  flocks, 

Hid  in  the  hollow  of  two  neighboring  hills, 

The  billowy  tempest  whelms  ;  till,  upward  urged, 

The  valley  to  a  shining  mountain  swells, 

Tipp'd  with  a  wreath  high  curling  in  the  sky.  275 

THE    COTTAGER    PERISHING    IN    A    SNOW-STORM. 

As  thus  the  snows  arise ;  and  foul,  and  fierce, 
All  Winter  drives  along  the  darkened  air  ; 
In  his  own  loose  revolving  fields,  the  swain 
Disaster'd  stands  ;  sees  other  hills  ascend. 
Of  unknown  joyless  brow ;  and  other  scenes,  280 

sweeping  style  of  description  which  characterized  the  genius  of  this  sub- 
lime poet.  "Well  might  the  bard,  with  such  a  snow-storm  in  his  imagina- 
tion, when  telling  the  shepherds  to  be  kind  to  their  helpless  charge,  ad- 
dress them  in  language  which,  in  an  ordinary  mood,  would  have  been 
bombast.  "  Shepherds,"  says  he,  "  baffle  the  raging  year  !"  How  ?  why 
merely  by  filling  their  pens  with  food.  But  the  whirlwind  was  up — 

"  Far  off  its  coming  groarfd? 

and  the  poet  was  inspired.  Had  he  not  been  so,  he  had  not  cried,  "  Baffle 
the  raging  year ;"  and  if  you  be  not  so,  you  will  think  it  a  most  absurd 
expression. 

276-321.  Here  is  a  passage  (says  Prof.  Wilson)  which  will  live  forever; 
in  which  not  one  word  could  be  altered  for  the  better — not  one  omitted 
but  for  the  worse — not  one  added  that  would  not  be  superfluous — a  pas- 
sage which  proves  that  fiction  is  not  the  soul  of  poetry,  but  truth — but 
then  such  truth  as  was  never  spoken  before  on  the  same  subject — such 
truth  as  shows  that  while  Thomson  was  a  person  of  the  strictest  veracity, 
yet  was  he  very  far  indeed  from  being  a  matter-of-fact  man. 

278-(,'.  The  wain,  etc. :  The  pastoral  solitudes  in  which  Thomson  was 
reared,  if  not  born,  told  him  that,  in  the  season  of  snow,  the  fowls  of  the 
air  were  not  the  sole  sufferers,  for  that  man,  in  the  care  of  his  flocks,  was 
often  smothered  in  the  drift,  or  chilled  to  death  on  the  barren  hills.  This 
was  evidently  in  his  mind  when  he  wrote  of  the  peasant  perishing  in  the 
snow.  It  has  all  the  marks  of  reality,  and  forms  one  of  the  most  moving 
pictures  of  the  season. — C. 


WINTER.  281 

_Of  horrid  prospect,  shag  the  trackless  plain : 
Nor  findsTTIe  river,  nor  the  forest,  hid 
Beneath  the  formless  wild  ;  but  wanders  on 
From  hill  to  dale,  still  more  and  more  astray ; 
Impatient  flouncing  through  the  drifted  heaps.  285 

Stung  with  the  thoughts  of  home,  the  thoughts  of  home 
Rush  on  his  nerves,  and  call  their  vi^or  forth 

o 

In  many  a  vain  attempt.  ^How  sinks  his  soul ! 

What  black  despair,  what  horror  fills  his  heart ; 

When  for  the  dusky  spot,  which  fancy  feign'd  290 

His  tufted  cottage  rising  through  the  snow, 

He  meets  the  roughness  of  the  middle  waste, 

Far  from  the  track  and  bless'd  abode  of  man ! 

While  round  him  night  resistless  closes  fast, 

And  every  tempest,  howling  o'er  his  head,  295 

Renders  the  savage  wilderness  more  wild. 

Then  throng  the  busy  shapes  into  his  mind 

Of  cover'd  pits,  unfathomably  deep, 

A  dire  descent !  beyond  the  power  of  frost ! 

Of  faithless  bogs  ;  of  precipices  huge,  300 

Smoothed  up  with  snow ;  and,  what  is  land,  unknown, 

What  water,  of  the  still  unfrozen  spring, 

In  the  loose  marsh  or  solitary  lake, 

Where  the  fresh  fountain  from  the  bottom  boils. 

These  check  his  fearful  steps  ;  and  down  he  sinks  305 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  the  shapeless  drift, 

Thinking  o'er  all  the  bitterness  of  death, 

Mix'd  with  the  tender  anguish  Nature  shoots 

Through  the  wrung  bosom  of  the  dying  man, 

His  wife,  his  children,  and  his  friends  unseen.  310 

In  vain  for  him  th'  officious  wife  prepares 

The  fire  fair-blazing,  and  the  vestment  warm  ; 

In  vain  his  little  children,  peeping  out 

Into  the  mingling  storm,  demand  their  sire, 

With  tears  of  artless  innocence.     Alas  !  315 


282  WINTER. 

Nor  wife,  nor  children,  more  shall  he  behold, 

Nor  friends,  nor  sacred  home.     On  every  nerve 

The  deadly  Winter  seizes  ;  shuts  up  sense ; 

And  o'er  his  inmost  vitals  creeping  cold, 

Lays  him  along  the  snows,  a  stiften'd  corse,  320 

Stretch'd  out,  and  bleaching  in  the  northern  blast. 


L 


ELECTIONS    ON    HUMAN    POVERTY    AND    WRETCHEDNESS. 


J 


Ah  !  little  think  the  gay,  licentious  proud, 
Whom  pleasure,  power,  and  affluence  surround  ; 
They  who  their  thoughtless  hours  in  giddy  mirth, 
And  wanton,  often  cruel,  riot  waste  ;  325 

Ah !  little  think  they,  while  they  dance  along, 
How  many  feel,  this  very  moment,  death, 
And  all  the  sad  variety  of  pain : 
How  many  sink  in  the  jdevQjwiiag-flood, 
Or  rpprp  ftevpfljjflnr  flame ;  how  many  bleed,  330 

By  shameful  variance  betwixt  man  and  man : 
How  many  pine  in  want,  and  dungeon  glooms ; 
Shut  from  the  common  air,  and  common  use 
Of  their  own  limbs :  how  many  drink  the  cup 
Of  baleful  grief,  or  eat  the  bitter  bread  335 

Of  misery  :  sore  pierced  by  wintry  winds, 
How  many  shrink  into  the  sordid  hut 
Of  cheerless  poverty  :  how  many  shake 
With  all  the  fiercer  tortures  of  the  mind, 
Unbounded  passion,  madness,  guilt,  remorse  ;  340 

Whence  tumbled  headlong  from  the  height  of  life,  jJ& 

They  furnish  matter  for  the  tragic  Muse : 


322-375.  Here  the  poet,  who  never  omits  an  opportunity  of  reading  a 
high  moral  lesson  to  mankind,  reminds  the  proud  and  the  affluent  how 
many  of  their  fellow-men  at  that  moment  are  suffering  all  varieties  of 
woe — want,  cold,  and  hunger — how  many  in  the  city  prison  or  in  the  hum- 
ble hut,  who  have  claims  on  their  compassion  or  on  their  justice. — C. 


WINTER.  283 

E'en  in  the  vale,  where  Wisdom  loves  to  dwell, 

With  Friendship,  Peace,  and  Contemplation  join'd, 

How  many,  rack'd  with  honest  passions,  droop  345 

In  deep  retired  distress :  how  many  stand 

Around  the  death-bed  of  their  dearest  friends, 

And  point  the  parting  anguish.     Thought  fond  man 

Of  these,  and  all  the  thousand  nameless  ills, 

That  one  incessant  struggle  render  life,  350 

One  scene  of  toil,  of  suffering,  and  of  fate ; 

Vice  in  his  high  career  would  stand  appall'd, 

And  heedless,  rambling  Impulse  learn  to  think ; 

The  conscious  heart  of  Charity  would  warm, 

And  her  wide  wish,  Benevolence  dilate  ;    .  355 

The  social  tear  would  rise,  the  social  sigh ; 

And  into  clear  perfection,  gradual  bliss, 

Refining  still,  the  social  passions  work. 

CRUELTIES    OF    A    BRITISH    PRISON    IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 

And  here  can  I  forget  the  generous  band, 
Who,  touch'd  with  human  woe,  redressive  searched        360 
Into  the  horrors  of  the  gloomy  jail ; 
Unpitied,  and  unheard,  where  Misery  moans ; 

342.  Tragic  Muse :  the  Muse  presiding  over  tragedy,  or,  without  a  fig- 
ure, the  writer  of  tragedy — the  province  of  which  is  to  depict  important 
actions,  scenes  of  strong  passion,  and  of  melancholy  interest  and  issues. 

359.  Generous  band:  the  Jail  Committee  in  the  year  1729.  In  1773 
the  celebrated  John  Howard,  of  England,  commenced  his  philanthropic 
and  extensive  explorations  of  European  prisons — made  known  their  de- 
plorable cruelties  and  wrongs — awakened  public  sympathy  and  exertions 
in  behalf  of  their  wretched  inmates — and  secured  most  valuable  changes 
in  the  entire  system  of  prison  discipline  and  accommodations.  In  the 
prosecution  of  this  benevolent  and  arduous  undertaking  he  expended 
thirty  thousand  pounds  of  his  own  income,  travelled  about  sixty  thousand 
miles,  and  endured  an  amount  of  fatigue,  labor,  exposure  of  health,  and 
sacrifice  of  the  comforts  of  home  and  of  native  country,  which  is  almost 
incredible,  and  finally  he  lost  his  life  by  a  fever  which  he  contracted  in 
visiting  a  Russian  prison  in  the  year  1790. 


284:  WESTTEB. 


I 

U 


Where  Sickness  pines ;  where  Thirst  and  Hunger  bum, 

And  poor  Misfortune  feels  the  lash  of  Vice  ? 

While  in  the  land  of  Liberty,  the  land  3 

Whose  every  street  and  public  meeting  glow 

With  open  freedom,  little  tyrants  raged ; 

Snatch'd  the  lean  morsel  from  the  starving  mouth ; 

Tore  from  cold  wintry  limbs  the  tatter'd  weed ; 

E'en  robb'd  them  of  the  last  of  comforts,  sleep  ;  3 

The  freeborn  Briton  to  the  dungeon  chain'd, 

Or,  as  the  lust  of  cruelty  prevailed, 

At  pleasure  mark'd  him  with  inglorious  stripes ; 

And  crush'd  out  lives,  by  secret,  barbarous  ways, 

That  for  their  country  would  have  toil'd  or  bled.  c 

0  great  design  !  if  executed  well, 

With  patient  care,  and  wisdom-temper'd  zeal. 

Ye  sons  of  Mercy !  yet  resume  the  search ; 

Drag  forth  the  regal  monsters  into  light. 

Wrench  from  their  hands  Oppression's  iron  rod,  £ 

And  bid  the  cruel  feel  the  pains  they  give. 

Much  still  untouch'd  remains ;  in  this  rank  age, 

Much  is  the  patriot's  weeding  hand  required. 

The  toils  of  law,  (what  dark  insidious  men 

Have  cumbrous  added  to  perplex  the  truth,  c 

And  lengthen  simple  justice  into  trade,) 

How  glorious  were  the  day  that  saw  these  broke, 

And  every  man  within  the  reach  of  right ! 


-.       WOLVES    DESCENDING    FROM    THE    ALPS    AND    APENNINES. 

I 

By  wintry  famine  roused,  from  all  the  tract 
.Of  horrid  mountains,  which  the  shining  Alps, 
And  wavy  Apennine,  and  Pyrenees, 

389-413.  To  this  passage,  or  rather,  to  a  portion  of  it,  Prof.  "Wilson  has 
applied  some  severity  of  criticism.  According  to  him,  the  first  fifteen  lines 
are  equal  to  any  thing  in  the  whole  range  of  English  descriptive  poetry : 


WINTER.  285 

Branch  out  stupendous  into  distant  lands  ; 
Cruel  as  death,  and  hungry  as  the  grave  !       t^t-/A-^fi  ,OJL 
Burning  for  blood  !  bony,  and  gaunt,  and  grim ! 
;   Assembling  wolves  in  raging  troops  descend ;  395 

And,  pouring  o'er  the  country,  bear  along 
Keen  as  the  north-wind  sweeps  the  glossy  snow. 
All  is  their  prize.     They  fasten  on  the  steed, 
Press  him  to  earth,  and  pierce  his  mighty  heart. 

but  the  last  ten  (404-13)  are  positively  bad ;  and  for  these  reasons: — 
Wild  beasts  do  not  like  the  look  of  the  human  eye ;  they  think  us  ugly 
customers ;  and  sometimes  stand  shilly-shallying  in  our  presence,  in  an 
awkward  but  alarming  attitude,  of  hunger  mixed  with  fear.  A  single 
wolf  seldom  or  never  attacks  a  man.  He  cannot  stand  the  face.  But  a 
person  would  need  to  have  a  godlike  face  indeed  to  terrify  therewith  an 
army  of  wolves  some  thousands  strong.  It  would  be  the  height  of  pre- 
emption in  any  man,  though  beautiful  as  Moore  thought  Byron,  to  at- 
tempt it.  If  so,  then 

"  The  godlike  face  of  man  avails  him  not," 

s,  under  these  circumstances,  ludicrous.  Still  more  so  is  the  trash  about 
oeauty,  force  divine  !  It  is  too  much  to  expect  of  an  army  of  wolves  ten 
thousand  strong,  and  "hungry  as  the  grave,"  that  they  should  all  fall 
down  on  their  knees  before  a  sweet  morsel  of  flesh  and  blood,  merely  be- 
cause the  young  lady  was  so  beautiful  that  she  might  have  sat  to  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence  for  a  frontispiece  to  Mr.  Watts'  Souvenir.  'Tis  all  stuff, 
too,  about  the  generous  lion  standing  in  softened  gaze  at  beauty's  bright 
glance.  True,  he  has  been  known  to  look  with  a  certain  sort  of  soft  sur- 
liness upon  a  pretty  Caffre  girl,  and  to  walk  past  without  eating  her — but 
simply  because,  an  hour  or  two  before,  he  had  dined  on  a  Hottentot  Ve- 
nus. The  secret  lay  not  in  his  heart,  but  in  his  stomach.  Still  the  notion 
is  a  popular  one. 

Famished  wolves  howking  up  the  dead  is  a  dreadful  image — but  "  in- 
human to  relate"  is  not  an  expression  heavily  laden  with  meaning ;  and 
the  sudden,  abrupt,  violent,  and,  as  we  feel,  unnatural  introduction  of 
ideas,  purely  superstitious,  at  the  close,  is  most  revolting,  and  miserably 
mars  the  terrible  truth. 

"  Mix'd  with  foul  shades  and  frighted  ghosts,  they  howl." 

Why,  pray,  are  the  shades  foul,  and  the  ghosts  only  frightened  ?  And 
wherein  lies  the  specific  difference  between  a  shade  and  a  ghost  ?  Be- 
sides, if  the  ghosts  were  frightened,  which  they  had  good  reason  to  be, 
why  were  not  they  off  ?  We  have  frequently  read  of  their  wandering 
far  from  home,  on  occasions  when  they  had  no  such  excuse  to  offer. 


286  WINTER. 

Nor  can  the  bull  his  awful  front  defend,  400 

Or  shake  the  murdering  savages  away. 
Rapacious,  at  the  mother's  throat  they  fly, 
And  tear  the  screaming  infant  from  her  breast. 

(The  godlike  face  of  man  avails  him  naught. 
E'en  beauty,  force  divine  I  at  whose  bright  glance          405 
The  generous  lion  stands  in  soften'd  gaze, 
Here  bleeds,  a  hapless,  undistinguish'd  prey. 
But  if,  apprised  of  the  severe  attack, 
The  country  be  shut  up,  lured  by  the  scent, 
On  churchyards  drear  (inhuman  to  relate !)  410 

The  disappointed  prowlers  fall,  and  dig 
The  shrouded  body  from  the  grave  ;  o'er  which 
I  Mix'd  with  foul  shades  and  frighted  ghosts,  they  howl. 

Among  those  hilly  regions,  where  embraced 
In  peaceful  vales  the  happy  Grisons  dwell ;  415 

Oft,  rushing  sudden  from  the  loaded  cliffs, 
Mountains  of  snow  their  gathering  terrors  roll ; 
From  steep  to  steep,  loud  thundering  down  they  come, 
W&ltp  in  dire  commotion  all ; 


And  herds,  and  flocks,  and  travellers,  and  swains,  420 

415.  Grisons:  one  of  the  Swiss  cantons.  The  rivers  Rhine  and  Inn 
have  their  source  in  this  part  of  the  Alps.  One  distinguishing  character- 
istic of  the  SwTiss  mountains,  says  Goodrich,  is  the  Glaciers,  which  resemble 
a  stormy  sea,  suddenly  congealed  and  bristling  all  over  with  sharp  ridges. 
The  Avalanches,  or  slips  of  snow,  form  another  peculiar  feature  in  the 
scenery  of  this  country.  There  are  innumerable  valleys  entirely  deso- 
lated, and  almost  inaccessible  to  any  thing  having  life,  in  consequence  of 
these  tremendous  visitations  from  the  surrounding  cliffs.  Not  only  the 
snow-fields  but  even  mountains  themselves  occasionally  slide  down  upon 
the  country  below.  In  1806  a  piece  of  the  Rossberg,  twice  as  large  as 
the  city  of  Paris,  slipped  down  at  once  into  the  lake  of  Lowertz  and  o*c- 
casioned  the  most  dreadful  devastation.  Another  accident  of  the  same 
kind  occurred  in  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  in  1801,  when  eleven  persons  were 
drowned  at  a  village  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake,  by  the  wave  raised 
by  the  plunge  of  the  falling  mass.  Switzerland  abounds  in  deep  and  ro- 
mantic valleys,  many  of  which  are  fertile  and  well-cultivated,  and  full  of 
wild  and  picturesque  scenery. 


WINTER.  287 

And  sometimes  whole  brigades  of  marching  troops, 

Or  hamlets  sleeping  in  the  dead  of  night, 

Are  deep  beneath  the  smothering  ruin  whelm'd. 


THE    MIGHTY    DEAD    OF    GREECE. 


Now,  all  amid  the  rigors  of  the  year, 

In  the  wild  depth  of  Winter,  while  without    '  425 

The  ceaseless  winds  blow  ice,  be  my  retreat 
Between  the  groaning  forest  and  the  shore, 
Beat  by  the  boundless  multitude  of  waves, 
A  rural,  sheltered,  solitary  scene ; 

Where  ruddy  fire  and  beaming  tapers  join  430 

To  cheer  the  gloom.     There  studious  let  me  sit, 
And  hold  high  converse  with  the  mighty  Dead ; 
Sages  of  ancient  time,  as  gods  revered, 
As  gods  beneficent,  who  bless'd  mankind 
With  arts,  with  arms,  and  humanized  a  world.  435 

Roused  at  the  inspiring  thought,  I  throw  aside 
The  long-lived  volume ;  and,  deep  musing,  hail 
The  sacred  shades,  that  slowly  rising  pass 
Before  my  wondering  eyes.     First  Socrates, 


439.  Socrates:  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  philosophers  of 
Athens.  He  was  born  469  B.  c.  He  often  served  his  country  with  great 
valor  in  military  expeditions :  at  sixty  years  of  age,  he  was  a  prominent 
and  influential  member  of  the  Senate  of  Five  Hundred :  he  firmly  opposed 
the  oppressive  measures  of  the  Thirty  Tyrants  at  the  hazard  of  his  life  : 
grieved  at  the  kind  of  philosophical  teaching  in  vogue  at  Athens,  consist- 
ing chiefly  of  refined  speculations  upon  nature  and  the  origin  of  things, 
and  offended  at  the  sophists  for  teaching  the  arts  of  false  eloquence  and 
false  reasoning,  Socrates  originated  a  new  and  more  practical  and  useful 
method  of  instruction.  After  this  period  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in 
public  places,  that  he  might  come  in  contact  with  large  numbers,  and 
benefit  them  by  his  lectures  and  conversation.  He  was  a  popular  and 
successful  teacher  of  moral  wisdom,  and  a  disinterested  and  zealous  pat- 
riot :  yet  his  enemies  succeeded  in  procuring  his  unjust  condemnation  to 
death  by  poison,  when  he  was  in  his  seventieth  year.  The  last  scenes  of 


288  WINTER. 

Who,  firmly  good  in  a  corrupted  state,  440 

|Against  the  rage  of  tyrants  single  stood, 
/Invincible !  calm  Reason's  bolyjaw, 
/  That  Voice  of  God  within  th'  attentive  mind, 
I  Obeying,  fearless,  or  in  life  or  death : 

xreat  moral  teacher !  wisest  of  mankind  !  445 

Solon  the  next,  who  built  his  commonweal 

On  equity's  wide  base ;  by  tender  Jaws 

A  lively  people  curbing,  yet  undamp'd, 

Preserving  still  that  quick  peculiar  fire, 


his  life  in  prison  are  described  with  great  beauty  and  pathos  by  the  elo- 
quent Xenophon,  his  friend  and  pupil. 

446.  Solon  :  one  of  the  "  seven  wise  men  of  Greece,"  and  a  distinguished 
Athenian  lawgiver,  but  a  native  of  Salamis.  After  a  long  course  of  travel 
for  the  sake  of  obtaining  information,  he  found  his  country  on  his  return  in 
a  deplorable  state,  divided  by  contending  factions  and  unable  to  resist  any 
attacks  from  abroad.  By  his  poetic  talent,  and  eloquence,  and  management, 
he  persuaded  the  Athenians  to  recover,  by  force  of  arms,  his  native  island 
from  the  unjust  grasp  of  the  state  of  Megara.  He  personally  aided  in  the 
battles  which  secured  its  recovery.  He  set  himself  most  wisely  and 
vigorously  to  suppress  the  angry  feuds  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  to  gain 
their  consent  to  a  new  organization  of  the  state,  which  had  become  ne- 
cessary, as  the  government  was  now  wielded  by  men  who  made  it  an  in- 
strument of  self-aggrandizement  and  wealth,  and  of  oppressing  the  great 
body  of  the  people.  He  was  chosen,  by  consent  of  all  parties,  to  mediate 
between  the  contending  classes,  and,  with  the  title  of  Archon,  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  task  of  framing  a  new  constitution  and  a  new  code  of  laws, 
594  B.  c.  He  secured  to  every  Athenian  citizen  the  right  of  being  judged 
bv  his  peers  and  tried  by  laws  to  which  his  own  consent  had  been  given. 
The  legislative  and  judicial  powers  were  intrusted  to  the  people :  but  the 
administration  of  government  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  men  of  property 
and  ability,  and  this  peculiarity  furnished  a  powerful  incentive  to  the  in- 
dustry of  the  people  and  to  the  acquisition  of  property  for  the  purpose  of 
thereby  securing  a  larger  share  of  political  influence.  Solon's  laws  em- 
braced a  wide  range  of  subjects — rules  of  right,  maxims  of  morality, 
regulations  of  commerce,  and  precepts  of  agriculture.  They  were  con- 
veyed into  the  Roman  jurisprudence  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  centmy 
before  Christ,  and,  after  an  interval  of  sixteen  hundred  years,  served  to 
abolish  the  barbarous  practices  of  the  Gothic  nations,  and  to  introduce 
justice,  security,  and  refinement,  among  the  modern  inhabitants  of  Europe. 
Consult  Gillies'  Greece,  162-165. 


WINTER.  289 

Whence  in  the  laurel'd  field  of  finer  arts,  450 

And  of  bold  freedom,  they  unequall'd  shone  ; 

The  pride  of  smiling  Greece  and  humankind., 

Lycurgus  then,  who  bow'd  beneath  the  force 

Of  strictest  discipline,  severely  wise, 

All  human  passions.     Following  him,  I  see,  455 

As  at  Thermopylae  he  glorious  fell, 

The  firm  devoted  Chief,  who  proved  by  deeds 

The  hardest  lesson  which  the  other  taught. 

Then  Aristides  lifts  his  honest  front  ; 


453.  Lycurgus :  a  Spartan  lawgiver,  for  which  station  he  sought  to 
qualify  himself  by  a  journey  to  Crete  and  to  Egypt,  to  examine  the  laws 
and  institutions  for  which,  in  that  age,  those  countries  were  distinguished. 
He  also  visited  the  oriental  countries,  and  in  passing  through  Asia  Minor 
on  his  return,  he  found  among  the  lonians  and  ^Eolians  the  poems  of  Ho- 
mer. These  he  brought  home  with  him,  and  made  them  the  basis  of  his 
legislation,  as  they  contain  a  large  amount  of  political  and  moral  infor- 
mation, useful  for  such  a  purpose.  He  made  some  important  changes  in 
the  constitution  of  Sparta :  he  banished  wealth  and  luxury,  and,  as  a 
means  to  this,  prohibited  the  use  of  gold  and  silver  coin  and  substituted 
iron  in  their  place.  He  established  public  tables  at  which  the  people 
took  their  frugal  meals.  From  the  age  of  seven  years,  the  Spartan  chil- 
dren were  educated  by  the  state,  arid  subjected  to  rigorous  discipline, 
and  manly  exercises,  and  self-denials,  adapted  to  make  them  serviceable 
warriors  in  adult  years.  To  give  them  leisure  for  martial  pursuits,  they 
were  not  allowed  to  practise  mechanical  trades  or  to  follow  agricultural 
pursuits,  but  these  were  assigned  to  the  Helots,  or  slaves.  Female  chil- 
dren received  a  careful  physical  education  adapted  to  secure  to  their  off- 
spring a  vigorous  constitution.  The  laws  of  Sparta  were  few,  and  unwrit- 
ten, and  thoroughly  committed  to  memory  by  the  Spartan  children. 

457.  Chief :  Leonidas,  a  Spartan  king  and  general,  who  manfully,  with 
a  small  yet  devoted  band,  ventured  to  obstruct  the  march  of  a  vast 
Persian  army  into  Greece,  at  the  passage  of  Thermopylae,  leading  from 
Thessaly  into  Southern  Greece.  The  Spartans  were  overpowered  and, 
excepting  two  or  three,  died  on  the  narrow  field  of  this  unequal  battle, 
which  took  place  480. B.  c. 

459.  Aristides  arid  Themistocles  were  rival  (464)  statesmen.  The  former 
(says  Keightley)  of  noble  birth,  moderate  and  disinterested  in  his  char- 
acter, leaned  to  the  aristocratic  principle  ;  his  rival,  of  inferior  birth  (his 
mother  being  a  foreigner),  courted  more  the  people.  In  integrity  and 
moral  dignity  of  character,  he  was  as  inferior  to  his  rival  as  in  birth  ;  but 

13 


290  WINTER. 

Spotless  of  heart,  to  whom  th'  unflattering  voice  460 

Of  freedom  gave  the  noblest  name  of  Just ; 

In  pure  majestic  poverty  revered  ; 

Who,  e'en  his  glory  to  his  country's  weal 

Submitting,  swell'd  a  haughty  Rival's  fame. 

Rear'd  by  his  care,  of  softer  ray  appears  465 

Cimon  sweet-soul'd  ;  whose  genius,  rising  strong, 

Shook  off  the  load  of  young  debauch ;  abroad, 

The  scourge  of  Persian  pride  ;  at  home,  the  friend 

Of  every  worth  and  every  splendid  art ; 

Modest  and  simple  in  the  pomp  of  wealth.  470 

Then  the  last  worthies  of  declining  Greece, 

Late  call'd  to  glory,  in  unequal  times, 

Pensive  appear.     The  fair  Corinthian  boast, 

Timoleon,  happy  temper !  mild  and  firm, 

his  brilliant  qualities  gained  the  people,  and  hie  influence  soon  became 
considerable  in  the  state. 

Aristides,  who  was  styled  the  Just,  directed  his  attention  chiefly  to  the 
management  of  the  finances,  and  was  more  than  once  chosen  Archon. 
Themistocles  sought  the  more  showy  station  of  military  command,  and 
turned  the  attention  and  efforts  of  the  people  to  the  augmentation  of  the 
navy.  His  influence  ere  long  became  so  great,  that  he  was  able  to  turn 
the  weapon  of  ostracism  against  his  rival,  and  Aristides  was  obliged  to 
go  into  honorable  banishment.  With  like  ingratitude  for  great  services 
rendered,  Themistocles  himself,  some  time  afterwards,  was  treated  in  a 
similar  manner. 

466.  Cimon  distinguished  himself  by  his  victorious  naval  conflicts  with 
the  Persian  invaders  of  his  country,  and  with  other  enemies.  His  achieve- 
ments were  brilliant,  and  useful  to  Athens.-  In  private  life  he  exhibited 
many  virtues.  As  Gillies  remarks,  he  not  only  reflected  the  most  distin- 
guished excellencies  of  his  predecessors,  but  improved  and  adorned  them 
by  an  elegant  liberality  of  manners,  an  indulgent  humanity,  and  can- 
did condescension — virtues  which  long  secured  him  the  affections  of  his 
fellow-citizens,  while  his  military  talents  and  authority,  always  directed 
by  moderation  and  justice,  maintained  an  absolute  ascendant  over  the 
allies  of  the  republic. 

By  his  munificence  and  taste  he  greatly  improved  Athens  and  its 
environs. 

474.  Timoleon :  an  eminent  Corinthian  warrior  and  statesman.  His 
brother  Timophanes,  having  been  raised  to  the  chief  command  of  the 


WINTER.  291 

Who  wept  the  brother  while  the  tyrant  bled.  4*75 

And,  equal  to  the  best,  the  Theban  Pair, 

Whose  virtues,  in  heroic  concord  join'd, 

Their  country  raised  to  freedom,  empire,  fame. 

He  too,  with  whom  Athenian  honor  sunk, 

And  left  a  mass  of  sordid  lees  behind,  480 

Phocion  the  Good ;  in  public  life  severe, 

forces  of  Corinth  for  its  defence,  subjected,  with  an  utter  disregard  of 
honor  and  of  justice,  the  city  to  his  own  despotic  sway,  having  put  to 
death  many  of  the  principal  inhabitants  without  form  of  trial.  Timoleon 
was  grieved  at  this  treacherous  and  tyrannical  proceeding  and  expostu- 
lated with  his  brother  and  urged  him  to  retrace  his  steps  and  endeavor 
to  make  reparation  to  the  city.  The  expostulation  was  treated  with  dis- 
dain. After  a  few  days  he  brought  two  other  individuals  of  some  note, 
who  then  united  their  earnest  entreaties  to  persuade  him  to  renounce  his 
tyranny,  but  Timophanes  at  first  sneered  at  them,  and  then  broke  out  into 
a  violent  passion.  At  this  juncture,  Timoleon  stepped  aside,  and  stood 
weeping,  with  his  face  covered,  while  the  other  two  drew  their  swords 
and  dispatched  Timophanes.  To  this  incident  Thomson  refers. 

476.  The  Theban  pair  :  Pelopidas  and  Epaminondas.  The  former  was 
brought  up  in  affluence,  but  with  a  noble  contempt  of  riches,  expended 
them  freely  in  the  relief  of  the  necessitous.  Epaminondas  was  poor,  and 
yet  he  alone  of  the  Thebans,  refused  to  share  in  the  liberality  of  his  friend. 
Both  were  marked  by  the  plainest  dress  and  habits  of  living :  they  both 
devoted  themselves  to  the  cultivation  of  every  moral  virtue.  Pelopidas 
was  peculiarly  pleased  with  corporal  exercises  and  sports :  Epaminondas 
with  philosophical  studies.  Both  were  admired  greatly  for  that  strict 
and  inviolable  friendship  which  was  maintained  between  them  from  their 
earliest  acquaintance  to  the  end  of  life,  in  all  the  high  stations,  both  mili- 
tary and  civil,  to  which  they  were  exalted.  This  arose  from  the  fact  that, 
in  attending  to  public  duties,  they  were  actuated  not  by  a  regard  to 
their  own  honor  and  wealth,  but  by  an  equal  and  all-absorbing  love  of 
country,  which  impelled  them  to  avail  themselves  of  the  achievements  of 
each  other  as  if  they  had  been  their  own.  See  Plutarch's  Life  of  Pelop- 
idas. 

481.  Phocion:  an  Athenian  general,  orator,  and  statesman,  born  about 
400  B.  c.  He  was  remarkable  (says  Anthon),  in  a  corrupt  age,  for  pu- 
rity and  simplicity  of  character,  and,  though  he  erred  in  his  political 
views,  yet  in  his  private  relations  he  certainly  deserved  the  praise  of  a 
virtuous  and  excellent  man.  In  his  military  capacity  he  signalized  him- 
self on  several  occasions.  As  a  statesman,  however,  Phociou  seems  less 
deserving  of  praise.  His  great  error  was  too  strong  an  attachment  ^0 


292  WIXTEE. 

To  virtue  still  inexorably  firm. 
.  But  when,  beneath  his  low  illustrious  roof, 
Sweet  peace  and  happy  wisdom  smoothed  his  brow, 
Not  Friendship  softer  was,  nor  Love  more  kind.  485 

And  he,  the  last  of  old  Lycurgus'  sons, 
The  generous  victim  to  that  vain  attempt, 
To  save  a  rotten  state,  Agis,  who  saw 
E'en  Sparta's  self  to  servile  avarice  sunk. 
The  two  Achaian  heroes  close  the  train  :  490 

Aratus,  who  awhile  relumed  the  soul 


pacific  relations  with  Macedon,  a  line  of  policy  which  brought  him  into  di- 
rect collision  with  Demosthenes,  though  it  subsequently  secured  for  him 
the  favor  of  Alexander.  In  this,  however,  there  was  nothing  corrupt ;  the 
principles  of  Phocion  were  pure,  and  his  desire  for  peace  was  a  sincere 
one ;  but  his  great  fault  was  in  despairing  too  readily  of  his  country. 
Alexander,  to  testify  his  regard  for  Phocion,  sent  him  a  present  of  a  hun- 
dred talents,  which  the  latter  unhesitatingly  refused. 

As  to  Phocion,  Plutarch  says  that,  when  the  money  was  brought  to 
Athens,  he  asked  the  bearers  of  it,  why  among  all  the  citizens  of  Athens 
he  had  been  selected  as  the  recipient  of  such  bounty ;  "  Because,"  said 
they,  "  Alexander  looks  upon  you  as  the  only  honest  and  good  man." 
"  Then,"  said  Phocion,  "  let  him  permit  me  always  to  retain  that  charac 
ter,  as  well  as  really  to  be  that  man." 

Plutarch  also  informs  us  that  Phocion  never  exerted  himself  against 
any  man  in  his  private  capacity,  or  considered  him  as  an  enemy ;  but  he 
was  inflexibly  severe  against  every  man  who  opposed  his  motions  and  de- 
signs for  the  public  good.  His  behavior,  in  other  respects,  was  liberal, 
benevolent,  and  humane  ;  the  unfortunate  he  was  always  ready  to  assist, 
and  he  pleaded  even  for  his  enemy,  if  he  happened  to  be  in  danger. 

These  particulars  illustrate  the  text :  we  have  not  space  for  more, 
though  highly  interesting  ones  might  easily  be  furnished  from  the  pages 
of  Plutarch. 

488.  Ac/is  became  king  of  Sparta,  243  B.  c.,  at  a  time  when  the  peo- 
ple, through  the  influence  of  wealth  and  luxury,  had  greatly  degenerated 
/rom  the  simplicity,  and  frugality,  and  severity  of  their  ancient  manners. 
Agis,  a  lover  and  example  of  the  ancient  discipline,  endeavored  to  reform 
existing  abuses,  and  restore  the  obsolete  institutions  of  Lycurgus.  His 
endeavors  were  applauded  by  the  people,  but  opposed  bv  men  of  prop- 
erty ;  also  by  Leonidas,  the  other  king  of  Sparta,  through  whose  agency 
he  was  condemned  to  death,  without  a  legal  trial,  and  promptly  executed. 

491.  Aratus  was  born  at  Sicyon,  273  B.  c.     At  the  age  of  twenty  he 


WINTER.  293 

Of  fondly  lingering  liberty  in  Greece  ; 

And  he,  her  darling  as  her  latest  hope, 

The..gallant  Philopoemen  ;  who  to  arms 

Turn'd  the  luxurious  pomp  he  could  not  cure ;  495 

Or  toiling  on  his  farm,  a  simple  swain ; 

Or,  bold  and  skilful,  thundering  in  the  field. 

THE  GREAT  MEN  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

Of  rougher  front,  a  mighty  people  come  ! 
A  race  of  heroes  !  in  those  virtuous  times 
Which  knew  no  stain,  save  that  with  partial  flame          500 
Their  dearest  country  they  too  fondly  loved  : 
Her  better  Founder  first,  the  light  of  Rome, 
Numa,  who  soften'd  her  rapacious  sons : 
Servius  the  king,  who  laid  the  solid  base 


erated  his  country  from  the  tyranny  of  Nicocles,  and  persuaded  his  fel 
low-citizens  to  form  with  others  what  was  called  the  Achaean  league.  He 
prevailed  upon  many  of  the  most  important  states  in  Southern  Greece 
to  become  members  of  the  league  for  their  common  safety  and  advan- 
tage. He  was  an  ardent  patriot  and  statesman,  but  of  only  moderate 
abilities  as  a  military  man. 

494.  Philopoemen  was  a  brave  general  of  the  same  league.  He  in- 
duced the  Spartans  to  join  the  league  ;  afterwards  nobly  declined  to  re- 
ceive a  present  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  talents  which  they  offered 
him ;  and,  when  the  Spartans  violated  the  terms  of  the  compact,  he,  as 
general  of  the  league,  demolished  the  walls  of  Sparta,  abolished  the  in- 
stitutions of  Lycurgus,  and  established  in  place  of  these  the  laws  of  the 
Achaeans.  The  league  spoken  of  was  destroyed  by  the  Romans,  and  the 
territory  over  which  it  was  spread  became,  under  Mummius,  a  .Roman 
province. 

503.  Numa  Pompilius,  called  here  the  better  founder  of  Rome  because 
he  gave  to  it  those  laws  and  religious  institutions  which  exerted  a  happy 
influence  upon  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  nation  in  its  infancy.     He 
was  the  second  king  of  Rome,  the  first  being  Romulus. 

504.  Servius  Tullius,  the  sixth  king  of  Rome.     He  sprung  from  an  ob- 
scure origin,  greatly  modified  the  character  of  the  Roman  government  by 
enlarging  the  privileges  of  the  plebeians,  and   diminishing  the  relative 
power  of  the  patricians     The  new  constitution  established  by  his  wisdom 


294:  WINTER. 

On  which  o'er  earth  the  vast  Republic  spread.  505 

Then  the  great  consuls  venerable  rise  : 

The  public  Father  who  the  private  quell'd, 

As  on  the  dread  tribunal  sternly  sad : 

He,  whom  his  thankless  country  could  not  lose, 

Camillus,  only  vengeful  to  her  foes  :  510 

Fabricius,  scorner  of  all-conquering  gold  ; 

And  Cincinnatus,  awful  from  the  plough : 

Thy  willing  victim,  Carthage,  bursting  loose 

and  energy,  though  not  democratic,  seems  to  have  prepared  the  way  for 
the  form  of  a  republic  which  the  government  of  Rome,  not  long  after 
assumed. 

507.  Public  Father :  Lucius  Junius  Brutus,  at  whose  instigation  thi 
royal  family  of  the  Tarquins  was  exiled  from  Rome,  the  monarchical 
form  of  government  abolished,  and  the  consular  adopted  in  its  stead.  As 
one  of  the  first  two  consuls,  he  was  obliged  to  try  his  own  sons  for  en- 
gaging with  others  in  a  daring  conspiracy  to  overthrow  the  consular  gov- 
ernment, and  restore  the  exiled  Tarquins  to  the  throne.  They  were  con- 
demned and  executed  by  the  order  of  their  father,  who,  as  one  of  the 
fathers  of  the  republic,  for  its  sake  quelled,  suppressed,  and  overcame  the 
feelings  of  a  private  father. — After  qudld  supply  rises. 

510.  Camillus,  after  performing  many  important  achievements  for  the 
benefit  of  his  country,  was  unjustly  accused  of  embezzling  some  of  the 
plunder  of  the  city  of  Veii,  which  he  had  conquered.     For  this,  however, 
he  went  into  voluntary  exile.     Upon  the  invasion  of  Rome  by  Brennus, 
the  Gaul,  when  the  capital  was  in  great  danger,  Camillus  was  recalled 
from  banishment,  and  elected  Dictator.     He  forgave  the  past  ingratitude 
of  the  people,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Roman  forces,  overthrew 
the  Gauls,  and  made  a  triumphal  entry  into  the  capital  amidst  the  accla- 
mations of  a  happy  people,  who   honored  him  with  the   name   of  Romu- 
lus, and  saluted  him  as  the  father  of  his  country — a  second  Founder  of 
the  city. 

511.  Cains  Fabricius,  a  Roman  consul,  was  sent  by  the  Senate  to  Pyr- 
rhus  to  make  terms  of  peace.     On  that  occasion,  learning  the  poverty  of 
Fabricius,  the  king  urged  him  to  accept  a  present  of  gold,  as  a  bribe  ;  but 
he  rejected  it  with  scorn,  and  thus  gained  the  admiration  of  the  king. 
On  a  second  embassy  to  Pyrrhus,  the  physician  of  the  latter  offered  to 
Fabricius,  for  a  bribe,  to  poison  the  king,  but  Fabricius  put  him  in  fet- 
ters, and  sent  him  back  to  Pyrrhus,  upon  whom  this  noble  act  produced  a 
deep  impression. 

512.  Cincinnatus:  See  "Spring,"  note  59. 

513.  Victim:  Regulus,  a  Roman  consul  and  general  during  the  first 


WINTER.  295 

From  all  that  pleading  Nature  could  oppose, 

From  a  whole  city's  tears,  by  rigid  faith  515 

Imperious  call'd,  and  honor's  dire  command : 

Scipio,  the  gentle  chief,  humanely  brave, 

Who  soon  the  race  of  spotless  glory  ran, 

And,  warm  in  youth,  to  the  poetic  shade, 


war  with  the  Carthaginians.  He,  with  five  hundred  of  hia  countrymen, 
was  taken  prisoner.  Having  remained  for  several  years  in  prison,  he  was 
sent  to  Rome  to  ask  for  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  not,  however,  until  he 
had  taken  a  solemn  oath  that  he  would  return  again  if  his  mission  should 
prove  unsuccessful.  When  he  came  to  Rome  (says  Anthon)  he  strongly 
dissuaded  his  countrymen  against  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  arguing  that 
such  an  example  would  be  of  fatal  consequence  to  the  republic ;  that  cit- 
izens who  had  so  basely  surrendered  their  arms  to  the  enemy  were  un- 
worthy of  the  least  compassion,  and  incapable  of  serving  their  country ; 
that,  with  regard  to  himself,  he  was  so  far  advanced  in  years,  that  his 
death  ought  to  be  considered  as  a  matter  of  no  importance ;  whereas 
they  had  in  their  hands  several  Carthaginian  generals,  in  the  flower  of 
their  age,  and  capable  of  doing  their  country  great  services  for  many 
years.  It  was  with  difficulty  the  senate  complied  with  so  generous  and 
unexampled  a  counsel.  The  illustrious  exile  therefore  left  Rome,  in  order 
to  return  to  Carthage,  unmoved  by  the  sorrow  of  his  friends,  or  the  tears 
of  his  wife  and  children  ;  and  was  treated,  on  his  return,  according  to  the 
ordinary  account,  with  the  utmost  degree  of  cruelty,  the  Carthaginians 
having  heard  that  their  offer  had  been  rejected  entirely  through  the  op 
position  of  Regulus. 

517.  Scipio  :  The  family  of  the  Scipios  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
in  the  annals  of  Roman  bravery  and  conquests.  The  one  here  alluded  to 
seems  to  have  been  Paulus  ^Emilianus  Scipio,  who,  for  his  military  suc- 
cesses in  Africa,  was  surname d  Africanus  the  Younger.  He  was  also  the 
conqueror  of  Numantia  in  Spain ;  but  his  great  popularity  was  soon  ter- 
minated by  his  opposition  to  Gracchus,  a  favorite  of  the  people.  Being 
disgusted  with  the  altered  state  of  public  feeling  towards  him,  he  retired 
to  Cajeta,  with  his  friend  Laelius,  and  devoted  himself  to  literary  pursuits 
and  innocent  amusements.  Laelius  was  not  only  the  ardent  friend  of 
Scipio,  but  he  had  studied  philosophy  with  Diogenes  the  Stoic  and  Panae- 
tius,  and  delighted  in  the  pursuit  of  wisdom  and  virtue.  He  was  also  an 
eminent  orator.  The  friendship  of  Scipio  and  Laelius  was  much  admired 
at  Rome,  which  probably  led  Cicero,  in  his  dialogue  "  De  Amicitia,"  to 
give  the  name  of  Laelius  to  one  of  the  interlocutors.  Thus,  as  Thomson 
beautifully  expresses  the  fact,  did  Scipio  with  Friendship  and  Philosophy 
retire. 


296  WINTEK. 

With  friendship  and  philosophy,  retired :  520 

Tully,  whose  powerful  eloquence  a  while 

Restrain'd  the  rapid  fate  of  rushing  Rome : 

Unconquer'd  Cato,  virtuous  in  extreme : 

And,  thou,  unhappy  Brutus,  kind  of  heart, 

Whose  steady  arm,  by  awful  virtue  urged,  525 

Lifted  the  Roman  steel  against  thy  friend. 

Thousands  besides  the  tribute  of  a  verse 

Demand ;  but  who  can  count  the  stars  of  heaven  ? 

Who  sing  their  influence  on  this  lower  world  ? 

Behold,  who  yonder  comes  !  in  sober  state,  530 

Fair,  mild,  and  strong,  as  is  a  vernal  sun  : 
'Tis  Phoebus'  self,  or  else  the  Mantuan  Swain ! 


521.  Tully:  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero,  one  of  the  greatest  orators  the 
world  has  produced.  His  matchless  eloquence  was  often  employed  in 
the  endeavor  to  prolong  the  existence  and  promote  the  prosperity  of  the 
republic.  He  used  it  most  effectually  in  crushing  the  formidable  conspi- 
racy of  Catiline,  for  which  he  was  designated  the  Father  and  Deliverer 
of  his  country.  He  delivered  several  orations  against  Antony  the  Tri- 
umvir. The  latter  part  of  his  life  was  devoted  to  philosophical  study 
and  writings.  He  has  been  pronounced  the  greatest  master  of  composi- 
tion the  world  has  ever  seen.  He  was  murdered  in  his  sixty-fourth  year 
at  the  command  of  Antony,  43  B.  c. 

523.  Cato,  usually  called  Cato  the  Censor,  from  the  remarkable  fidelity 
which  he  displayed  in  that  office.     He  often  took  up  arms  in  defence  of 
his  country,  and  ably  served  it  as  consul.     He  was  a  great  warrior — a 
man  of  great  sternness,  and  severity  of  manners,  and  of  incorruptible  in- 
tegrity and  patriotism — the  author  of  that  cruel  sentiment,  resulting,  how- 
ever, from  his  exclusive  patriotism,  that  Carthage  must  be    destroyed  — 
Prceterea  censeo  Carthaginem  esse  delendam.     He  had  none  of  the  gentle- 
ness and  suavity  of  Scipio.     He  was  born  at  Tusculum,  232  B.  c. 

524.  Brutus  :  Marcus  Junius  Brutus  chiefly  distinguished  himself  by 
the  prominent  part  which  he  took  in  the  assassination  of  Julius  C1£esar,  on 
the  ground  that  he  was  aiming  at  the  possession  of  kingly  power.     His 
agency  in  this  matter  was  the  more  remarkable,  on  the  score  of  patriot- 
ism, from  the  fact  that  Caesar  had  manifested  special  friendship  for  him, 
and  had  elevated  him  to  several  posts  of  honor.     Upon  the  defeat  of 
Brutus  on  the  plains  of  Philippi,  by  the  forces  of  Antony  and  Octavius, 
he  committed  suicide — thus  copying  the  memorable  but  criminal  example 
of  his  uncle  Marcus  Cato. 

532.  Phoebus :  Apollo — a  favorite  object  of  Grecian  worship :  he  was 


WINTER.  297 

\Great  Homer  too  appears,  of  daring  wing, 
Parent  of  song  !  and  equal,  by  bis  side, 
The  British  Muse :  join'd  hand  in  band  tbey  walk,          535 
Darkling,  full  up  the  middle  steep  to  fame. 
Nor  absent  are  those  shades,  whose  skilful  touch 
Pathetic  drew  th'  impassion'd  heart,  and  charm'd 
Transported  Athens  with  the  moral  scene  ; 
Nor  those  who,  tuneful,  waked  th'  enchanting  lyre.        540 

First  of  your  kind  !  society  divine  ! 
Still  visit  thus  my  nights,  for  you  reserved, 
And  mount  my  soaring  soul  to  thoughts  like  yours. 
Silence,  thou  lonely  power !  the  door  be  thine  ; 
See  on  the  hallow'd  hour  that  none  intrude,  545 

Save  a  few  chosen  friends,  who  sometimes  deign 
To  bless  my  humble  roof,  with  sense  refined, 
Learning  digested  well,  exalted  faith, 
Unstudied  wit,  and  humor  ever  gay. 
Or  from  the  Muses'  hill  with  Pope  descend,  550 

represented,  in  statuary,  in  the  perfection  of  manly  grace  and  strength : 
his  brows  encircled  with  a  laurel  crown,  and  a  bow  or  lyre  in  his  hands. 
He  was  regarded  as  a  patron  of  poets,  and  associated  with  the  Muses  on 
Parnassus.  The  Mantuan  Swain  was  the  sweet  poet  of  the  Augustan 
age  of  Rome,  author  of  the  Bucolics,  Georgics,  and  ^Eneid,  obtaining  the 
title  here  given  him  from  his  agricultural  pursuits,  at  or  near  Mantua,  in 
early  life.  The  history  of  Homer  is  involved  in  great  obscurity  ;  but  lie 
is  generally  regarded  as  the  author  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  that  bear 
his  name — the  most  remarkable  productions  of  any  age.  Equal  to  him, 
however,  in  the  judgment  of  Thomson  and  of  others,  was  Milton,  the  Brit- 
ish Muse,  the  author  of  Paradise  Lost  and  Regained — a  most  stupendous 
monument  of  human  genius,  learning,  and  poetic  inspiration. 

Nor  absent  from  the  poet's  view  (537—40)  are  those  shades  (departed 
men)  of  Greece,  who  excelled  in  tragedy  and  in  the  ode. 

550.  Pope:  Alexander  Pope  was  born  in  London  in  1688,  and  began 
very  early  to  write  verses,  so  early  that  he  used  to  say  that  he  could  not 
remember  the  time  when  he  began  to  make  verses.  He  adopted  the 
versification  of  Dry  den  as  his  model.  From  the  age  of  ten  he  was  a  dil- 
igent and  successful  student  from  love  of  knowledge  and  of  mental  exer- 
tion. At  fourteen  he  was  quite  a  proficient  in  the  Latin  tongue,  and  had 
acquired  great  smoothness  in  versification.  The  next  year  he  rendered 


298  WINTER. 

To  raise  the  sacred  hour,  to  bid  it  smile, 
And  with  the  social  spirit  warm  the  heart  ? 
For  though  not  sweeter  his  own  Homer  sings, 
Yet  is  his  life  the  more  endearing  song. 

the  French  and  Italian  languages  quite  familiar  to  his  mind.  He  wa?  a 
great  reader  also  of  the  English  poets  and  prose  writers,  as  even  his  juve- 
nile poems  evince.  At  the  age  of  twenty -seven  he  was  making  arrange- 
ments for  translating  into  English  verse  the  great  poem  of  Homer,  and 
that  translation  is  pronounced  by  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  to  be  "  the  noblest 
version  of  poetry  which  the  world  has  ever  seen,"  and  he  considers  its 
publication  as  "one  of  the  great  events  in  the  annals  of  learning."  He 
translated  also  twelve  books  of  the  Odyssey  of  Homer.  His  political 
writings  are  numerous  and  highly  valued.  For  a  critical  account  of  them, 
Dr.  Johnson's  memoir  of  Pope  may  be  consulted. 

Thomson,  in  the  text,  alludes  to  the  eminence  which  Pope  had  reached 
as  a  poet  when  he  speaks  of  his  descending  from  the  Muses'  hill,  and 
while  he  alludes  to  the  sweet  versification  of  his  Homer,  he  compliments 
him  most  highly,  by  the  remark  that  his  life  is  an  equally  sweet  and  a 
more  enduring  song.  Bolingbroke,  during  the  last  illness  of  Pope,  re- 
marked tp  Spence  that  he  never  in  his  life  knew  a  man  that  had  so  tender 
a  heart  for  his  particular  friends,  or  more  general  friendship  for  mankind. 
Johnson  says  that  in  familiar  or  convivial  conversation  he  did  not  excel, 
and  that  he  resembled  Dryden,  as  being  not  one  that  was  distinguished 
by  vivacity  in  company.  But  it  seems  that  he  had  other  qualities  of  a 
social  and  intellectual  character  that  made  his  society  a  source  of  great 
and  peculiar  fascination  to  our  author.  A  slight  sketch  of  these  qualities 
may  be  found,  with  other  interesting  particulars,  by  referring  to  note  1426 
in  "  Summer." 

The  "  humble  roof  in  which  Thomson  entertained  his  "  chosen  friends" 
was  in  Kew-lane,  near  Richmond,  in  Surrev,  about  nine  miles  southwest 
from  London — a  distance  he  was  accustomed  frequently  to  walk" with 
some  literarv  friend.  It  was  a  very  retired  and  agreeable  retreat;  where, 
for  some  of  the  last  years  of  his  life,  he  divided  his  time  between  his 
learned  friends  and  his  poetic  compositions.  In  regard  to  the  former,  he 
seems,  from  the  text,  to  have  been  wisely  select,  and  to  have  cultivated 
the  society  of  those  only  who  contributed  to  rational  improvement  and 
delight,  of  whom  Pope  seems  to  have  been  most  welcome. 

His  society  (we  are  told  by  a  biographer)  was  select  and  distinguished 
Pope,  Hill.  Dr.  Armstrong,  the  Bishop  of  Derry,  Sir  Andrew  Mitchell. 
Dr.  De  La  Coru,  Mallet,  Hammond,  Quin,  and  above  all,  Mr.  George  Lyt- 
tleton,  were  his  most  intimate  friends :  Pope  courted  Thomson,  and 
Thomson  was  always  admitted  to  Pope,  whether  he  had  company  or  not. 
Collins  also  seems  to  have  been  an  associate. 


WINTEK.  299 

Where  art  thou,  Hammond  ?  thou,  the  darling  pride,  555 
The  friend  and  lover  of  the  tuneful  throng ! 
Ah,  why,  dear  youth,  in  all  the  blooming  prime 
Of  vernal  genius,  where  disclosing  fast 
Each  active  worth,  each  manly  virtue  lay, 
Why  wert  thou  ravish'd  from  our  hope  so  soon  ?  560 

What  now  avails  that  noble  thirst  of  fame, 
Which  stung  thy  fervent  breast  ?  that  treasured  store 
Of  knowledge,  early  gain'd  ?  that  eager  zeal 
To  serve  thy  country,  glowing  in  the  band 
Of  youthful  patriots,  who  sustain  her  name  ?  565 

What  now,  alas  !  that  life-diffusing  charm 

Thomson's  character  (says  one)  was  in  every  respect  consistent  with 
what  his  writings  lead  us  to  expect :  he  was  high-minded,  amiable,  gen- 
erous, and  humane.  Equable  in  his  temper,  and  affable  in  his  deportment, 
he  was  rarely  ruffled  but  by  the  knowledge  of  some  act  of  cruelty  or  in- 
justice ;  and  as  he  magnanimously  forgave  the  petty  assaults  which  envy 
or  malignity  levelled  at  him,  and  stood  aloof  from  the  poetical  warfare 
which  raged  with  great  heat  during  some  part  of  his  career,  he  was  soon, 
as  if  by  common  consent,  respected  by  all  the  belligerents. 

In  the  last  walk  which  Thomson  took  from  London  to  his  residence 
near  Richmond,  he  overheated  himself,  and  imprudently,  while  in  that 
state,  took  a  boat  part  of  the  way  to  carry  him  to  Kew  ;  but  the  chill 
air  of  the  river  gave  him  a  cold,  which  led  to  a  fever  that  in  a  few  days 
terminated  his  life,  in  1748.  Collins,  the  poet,  had  gone  to  reside  at 
Richmond  for  the  sake  of  being  near  to  Thomson,  but  when  the  latter 
died  Collins  quitted  the  place  in  sorrow,  and  published  a  touching  Elegy, 
which  may  be  seen  in  the  early  part  of  this  volume.  Shenstone,  the 
poet,  was  another  friend  of  Thomson,  who,  in  a  letter,  professed  himself 
much  shocked  to  hear  of  the  death  of  a  friend,  whose  society  he  could  so 
ill  afford  to  relinquish. 

555.  James  Hammond  seems  to  have  been  another  of  Thomson's  select 
friends,  whom  he  highly  eulogizes.  According  to  Dr.  Aikin,  he  was  a 
popular  elegiac  poet ;  was  educated  at  Westminster  school,  where  at  an 
early  age  he  obtained  the  friendship  of  several  persons  of  distinction, 
among  whom  were  Lords  Cobham,  Chesterfield,  and  Lyttleton  ;  was  made 
a  member  of  Parliament  in  1741,  and  died  in  June,  1742,  at  the  seat  of 
Lord  Cobham,  at  Stowe.  An  unfortunate  passion  for  a  young  lady,  who 
was  cold  to  his  addresses,  is  thought  to  have  disordered  his  mind,  and 
perhaps  contributed  to  his  premature  death.  Hammond  was  a  man  of 
amiable  character,  and  was  much  regretted  by  his  friends. 


300  WINTER. 

Of  sprightly  wit  ?  that  rapture  for  the  Muse  ? 
That  heart  of  friendship,  and  that  soul  of  joy, 
Which  bade  with  softest  light  thy  virtues  smile  ? 
Ah !  only  show'd,  to  check  our  fond  pursuits,  570 

*  And  teach  our  humble  hopes  that  life  is  vain  ! 


WINTER    EVENING    STUDIES    AND    AMUSEMENTS. 

Thus  in  some  deep  retirement  would  I  pass 
The  Winter  glooms,  with  friends  of  pliant  soul, 
Or  blithe,  or  solemn,  as  the  theme  inspired : 
With  them  would  search,  if  Nature's  boundless  frame 


Y 


575 


Was  call'd,  late  rising  from  the  void  of  night, 

Or  sprung  eternal  from  th'  Eternal  Mind  ; 

Its  life,  its  laws,  its  progress,  and  its  end. 

Hence  larger  prospects  of  the  beauteous  whole 

Would,  gradual,  open  on  our  opening  minds  ;  580 

And  each  diffusive  harmony  unite 

In  full  perfection,  to  th'  astonish'd  eye. 

Then  would  we  try  to  scan  the  moral  world, 

Which,  though  to  us  it  seems  embroil'd,  moves  on 

In  higher  order  ;  fitted  and  impell'd  585 

,  By  Wisdom's  finest  hand,  and  issuing  all 

if  In  general  good.     The  sage  historic  Muse 
Should  next  conduct  us  through  the  deeps  of  time ; 
Show  us  how  empire  grew,  declined,  and  fell, 
In  scatter'd  states  ;  what  makes  the  nations  smile,         590 
Improves  their  soil,  and  gives  them  double  suns  ; 
And  why  they  pine  beneath  the  brightest  skies, 


684.  EmbroiFd :  Confused  and  irregular. 

C87.  Historic  Muse  :  Muse  presiding  over  history. 

591.  Double  suns  may  here  denote  double  fertility  and  abundance,  as 
the  harvest  depends  greatly  on  the  sun's  heat.  Towards  the  equator  the 
earth  produces  double  harvests  each  year. 


WINTER. 

In  Nature's  richest  lap.     As  thus  we 

Our  hearts  would  burn  within  us  ;  would 

That  portion  of  divinity,  that  ray 

Of  purest  heaven,  which  lights  the  public  soul 

Of  patriots  and  of  heroes.     But  if  doom'd, 

In  powerless  humble  fortune,  to  repress 

These  ardent  risings  of  the  kindling  soul ; 

Then,  even  superior  to  ambition,  we  600 

Would  learn  the  private  virtues  ;  how  to  glide 

Through  shades  and  plains,  along  the  smoothest  stream 

Of  rural  life ;  or,  snatch 'd  away  by  hope, 

Through  the  dim  spaces  of  futurity, 

With  earnest  eye  anticipate  those  scenes  605 

Of  happiness  and  wonder,  where  the  mind, 

In  endless  growth  and  infinite  ascent, 

Rises  from  state  to  state,  and  world  to  world. 

But  when  with  these  the  serious  thought  is  foil'd, 

We,  shifting  for  relief,  would  play  the  shapes  610 

Of  frolic  fancy  ;  and  incessant  form 

Those  rapid  pictures,  that  assembled  train 

Of  fleet  ideas,  never  join'd  before, 

Whence  lively  wit  excites  to  gay  surprise  ; 

Or  folly-painting  humor,  grave  himself,  615 

Calls  laughter  forth,  deep  shaking  every  nerve. 

Meantime  the  village  rouses  up  the  fire  ; 
While  well  attested,  and  as  well  believed, 
Heard  solemn,  goes  the  goblin  story  round  ; 
Till  superstitious  horror  creeps  o'er  all.  620 

Or,  frequent  in  the  sounding  hall,  they  wake 
The  rural  gambol.     Rustic  mirth  goes  round ; 
The  simple  joke  that  takes  the  shepherd's  heart, 
Easily  pleased  ;  the  long  loud  laugh,  sincere ; 
The  kiss,  snatch'd  hasty  from  the  sidelong  maid,  625 

On  purpose  guardless  or  pretending  sleep  ; 
The  leap,  the  slap,  the  haul ;  and,  shook  to  notes 


302  WINTKK. 

Of  native  music,  the  respondent  dance. 

Thus  jocund  fleets  with  them  the  Winter  night. 

->; 

*J*^jr        WINTER    EVENING    IN    THE    CITY. 

The  city  swarms  intense.     The  public  haunt,  630 

Full  of  each  theme,  and  warm  with  mix'd  discourse, 
Hums  indistinct.     The  sons  of  riot  flow 
Down  the  loose  stream  of  false  enchanted  joy 
To  swift  destruction.     On  the  rankled  soul 
The  gaming  fuiy  falls  ;  and  in  one  gulf  635 

Of  total  ruin,  honor,  virtue,  peace, 
Friends,  families,  and  fortune,  headlong  sink. 
Up  springs  the  dance  along  the  the  lighted  dome, 
Mix'd  and  evolved  a  thousand  sprightly  ways. 
The  glittering  court  effuses  every  pomp  ;  640 

The  circle  deepens ;  beam'd  from  gaudy  robes, 
Tapers,  and  sparkling  gems,  and  radiant  eyes, 
A  soft  effulgence  o'er  the  palace  waves : 
While,  a  gay  insect  in  his  summer-shine, 
The  fop,  light- fluttering,  spreads  his  mealy  wings.          645 

Dread  o'er  the  scene  the  ghost  of  Hamlet  stalks ; 
Othello  rages  ;  poor  Monimia  mourns  ; 
And  Belvidera  pours  her  soul  in  love. 
Terror  alarms  the  breast.     The  comely  tear 
Steals  o'er  the  cheek  ;  or  else  the  Comic  Muse  650 

Holds  to  the  world  a  picture  of  itself, 
And  raises  sly  the  fair  impartial  laugh. 
Sometimes  she  lifts  her  strain,  and  paints  the  scenes 
Of  beauteous  life  ;  whatever  can  deck  mankind, 
Or  charm  the  heart  in  generous  Bevil  show'd.  655 

646-9.  The  author  here  refers  to  the  characters  that  figure  in  several 
tragedies. 

656.  Bevil  is  a  character  in  the  play  cf  the  "  Conscious  Lovers"  by  Sir 
Richard  Steele. 


WINTER.  303 

0  Thou,  whose  wisdom,  solid  yet  refined, 
Whose  patriot  virtues,  and  consummate  skill     \ 
To  touch  the  finer  springs  that  move  the  worldA 
Join'd  to  whate'er  the  Graces  can  bestow, 
And  all  Apollo's  animating  fire,  /  660 

Give  thee,  with  pleasing  dignity,  to  shine  x 
At  once  the  guardian,  ornament,  and  joy 
Of  polish'd  life ;  permit  the  rural  Muse, 

0  Chesterfield,  to  grace  with  thee  her  sonp; ! 

^  b  ° 

Ere  to  the  shades  again  she  humbly  flies,  665 

Indulge  her  fond  ambition,  in  thy  train, 

(For  every  Muse  has  in  thy  train  a  place,) 

To  mark  thy  various,  full-accomplish'd  mind ; 

To  mark  that  spirit  which,  with  British  scorn, 

Rejects  th'  allurements  of  corrupted  power;  670 

That  elegant  politeness,  which  excels, 

E'en  in  the  judgment  of  presumptuous  France, 

The  boasted  manners  of  her  shining  court ; 

That  wit,  the  vivid  energy  of  sense, 

The  truth  ofJNfature,  which,  with  Attic  point     /  675 

And  kind  well-temper'd  satire,  smoothly  keen, 

664.  Chesterfield:  Philip  Dormer  Stanhope,  Earl  of  Chesterfield  (1694- 
1V73),  (as  Chambers  remarks)  was  an  elegant  author,  though  his  only 
popular  composition  is  his  "  Letters  to  his  Son,"  a  work  containing 
many  excellent  advices  for  the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  and  improvement 
of  the  external  worldly  character,  but  greatly  deficient  in  all  the  higher 
points  of  morality.  Lord  Chesterfield  was  an  ahle  politician  and  diplo- 
matist, and  an  eloquent  parliamentary  debater.  The  celebrated  "  Letters 
to  his  Son"  were  not  intended  for  publication,  and  did  not  appear  till  after 
his  death.  Their  publication  was  much  to  be  regretted  by  every  friend 
of  this  accomplished,  witty,  pjid  eloquent  peer. 

675.  With  Attic  point :  With  point  worthy  of  Attica,  or  of  Athens,  its 
capital.  The  term  Attic,  from  the  eminent  attainments  of  its  men  of 
literature  and  art,  is  applied  to  any  thing  peculiarly  excellent  in  literature 
and  art.  As  Brande  observes,  the  term  Sal  Atticum  (Attic  salt)  was  em- 
ployed by  the  Romans  at  once  to  characterize  the  poignancy  of  wit  and 
brilliancy  of  style  peculiar  to  the  Athenian  writers,  and  to  designate  the 
liveliness,  spirituality,  and  refined  taste  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  city, 


304  WINTER. 

Steals  through  the  soul,  and  without  pain  corrects. 

Or,  rising  thence  with  yet  a  brighter  flame, 

0,  let  me  hail  thee  on  some  glorious  day, 

When  to  the  listening  senate,  ardent,  crowd  680 

Britannia's  sons  to  hear  her  pleaded  cause. 

Then  dress'd  by  thee,  more  amiably  fair, 

Truth  the  soft  robe  of  mild  persuasion  wears. 

Thou  to  assenting  reason  givest  again 

Her  own  enlighten'd  thoughts;  call'd  from  the  heart,     685 

Th'  obedient  passions  on  thy  voice  attend  ; 

And  e'en  reluctant  party  feels  a  while 

Thy  gracious  power ;  as  through  the  varied  maze 

Of  eloquence,  now  smooth,  now  quick,  now  strong, 

Profound,  and  clear,  you  roll  the  copious  flood.  690 

THE    VARIOUS    OPERATIONS    AND    EFFECTS    OF    FROST. 

To  thy  loved  haunt  return,  my  happy  Muse  ; 
For  now,  behold,  the  joyous  Winter  days, 
Frosty,  succeed  ;  and  through  the  blue  serene, 
For  sight  too  fine,  th'  ethereal  nitre  flies, 
Killing  infectious  damps,  and  the  spent  air  695 

which  formed  the  focus  and  central  point  of  all  the  eloquence  and  refine- 
ment of  the  Greeks. 

694.  Etherial  nitre :  Some  of  Thomson's  notions  on  subjects  of  the 
chemical  department  are  crude  and  almost  unintelligible,  though  we  can 
readily  excuse  him  on  this  point,  because  chemistry,  in  his  day,  was  al- 
most an  unexplored  field.  His  theory,  and  perhaps  that  of  his  times, 
seems  to  be,  that  the  air  abounded,  in  the  Winter  season,  with  saline  par- 
ticles, called  by  him  nitrous  particles,  which  exerted  a  beneficial  influence 
upon  vegetation,  and  upon  animal  health,  and  growth,  and  vigor. 

Perhaps,  however,  by  ethcrial  nitre  he  only  means  the  element  of  frost, 
manifesting  itself  in  the  material  world  in  a  form  not  unlike  the  efflores- 
cence, the  minute  crystallizations  of  nitre  on  the  surface  of  the  ground,  in 
many  parts  of  the  world. 

These  views  are  strengthened  by  looking  forward  to  714,  tfcc.,  where  he 
speaks  of  the  potent  energy  of  frost  as  consisting  of  myriads  of  little  salts, 
or  hooked,  or  shaped,  like  double  wedges,  (fee. 


WINTER.  305 

Storing  afresh  with  elemental  life. 

Close  crowds  the  shining  atmosphere ;  and  binds 

Our  strengthen'd  bodies  in  its  cold  embrace, 

Constringent ;  feeds  and  animates  our  blood  ;  t"  Lj^ 

Refines  our  spirits,  through  the  new-strung  nerves         '700 

In  swifter  sallies  darting  to  the  brain ; 

Where  sits  the  soul,  intense,  collected,  cool, 

Bright  as  the  skies,  and  as  the  season  keen. 

All  Nature  feels  the  renovating  force 

Of  Winter,  only  to  the  thoughtless  eye  705 

In  ruin  seen.     The  frost- concocted  glebe 

Draws  in  abundant  vegetable  soul, 

And  gathers  vigor  for  the  coming  year. 

A  stronger  glow  sits  on  the  lively  cheek 

Of  ruddy  fire  ;  and  luculent  along  710 

The  purer  rivers  flow  :  their  sullen  deeps, 

Transparent,  open  to  the  shepherd's  gaze, 

d^-murmur  hoarser  at  the  fixing  frost. 

What  art  thou,  frost  ?  and  whence  ^re  thy  keen  stores 
Derived,  thou  secret,  all-invading  power,  715 

Whom  e'en  th'  illusive  fluid  cannot  fly  ? 
Is  not  thy  potent  energy,  unseen, 
Myriads  of  little  salts,  or  hook'd,  or  shaped 
Like  double  wedges,  and  diffused  immense 
Through  water,  earth,  and  ether?     Hence,  at  eve,         720 
Steam'd  eager  from  the  red  horizon  round, 
With  the  fierce  rage  of  Winter  deep  suffused, 
An  icy  gale,  oft  shifting,  o'er  the  pool 
Breathes  a  blue  film,  and  in  its  mid  career 


697.  Close  crowds,  &c. :  Renders  the  atmosphere  more  dense  and  heavy. 

723-5.  An  icy  gale,  &c. :  Upon  this  and  a  contiguous  passage,  relating 
to  the  operations  of  frost,  let  us  attend  to  some  pleasant  remarks  of  Prof. 
Wilson  : — Did  you  ever  see  water  beginning  to  change  itself  into  ice  ? 
Yes.  Then  try  to  describe  the  sight.  Success  in  that  trial  will  prove 
you  a  poet.  People  do  not  prove  themselves  poets  only  by  writing  long 


306 


WINTEE. 


Arrests  the  bickering  stream.     The  loosen'd  ice, 
Let  down  the  flood,  and  half  dissolved  by  day, 
Rustles  no  more ;  but  to  the  sedgy  bank 
Fast  grows,  or  gathers  round  the  pointed  stone, 
A  crystal  pavement,  by  the  breath  of  heaven 
Cemented  firm;  till,  seized  from  shore  to  shore, 
The  whole  imprisqn'd  river  growls  ^elow.  / 
LouJ  ririgs  the  frozen  earth,  and  hard  reflects 
A  double  noise  ;  while,  at  his  evening  watch, 
The  village  dog  deters  the  nightly  thief ; 
The  heifer  lows  ;  the  distant  waterfall 
Swells  in  the  breeze  ;  and,  with  the  hasty  tread 
Of  traveller,  the  hollow-sounding  plain, 
Shakes  from  afar.     The  full  ethereal  round, 
^Infinite  worlds  disclosing  to  the  view, 
Shines  out  intensely  keen  ;  and,  all  one  cope 
)f  starry  glitter,  glows  from  pole  to  pole. 
?rom  pole  to  pole  the  rigid  influence  falls, 
Through  the  still* night,  incessant,  heavy,  strong, 
And  seizes  Nature  fast.     It  freezes  on  ; 
Till  morn,  late  rising  o'er  the  drooping  world, 


730 


735 


740 


745 


poems.  A  line — two  words — may  show  that  they  are  the  Muses'  sons. 
How  exquisitely  does  Burns  picture  to  our  eyes  moonlight  water  under- 
going an  ice-change  ! 

"The  chilly  frost,  beneath  the  silver  beam, 
Crept  gently  crusting  o'er  the  glittering  stream !" 

Thomson  does  it  with  an  almost  finer  spirit  of  perception — or  conception 
—or  memory —or  whatever  else  you  choose  to  call  it ;  for  our  part,  we 
call  it  genius : 

"  An  icy  gale,  oft-  shifting,  o'er  the  pool 
Breathes  a  luluefilm,  and  in  its  mid  career 
Arrests  the  bickering  stream." 

And  afterwards,  having  frozen  the  entire  stream  into  a  "  crystal  pave- 
ment," how  gloriously  doth  he  conclude  thus  : 

"  TJie  whole  imprisoned  river  growls  below? 
725.  Bickering  :  Rippling,  moving  with  a  tremulous  surface 


WINTER.  307 

Lifts  her  pale  eye,  unjoyous.     Then  appears 

The  various  labor  of  the  silent  night : 

Prone  from  the  dripping  eave,  and  dumb  cascade, 

Whose  idle  torrents  only  seem  to  roar, 

The  pendent  icicle  ;  the  frost-work  fair,  7 30 

750.  The  pendent  icicle,  &c. :  The  most  beautiful  specimen  of  pendent 
icicle  and  frost-work  fair  that  Nature  has  perhaps  ever  displayed,  at 
least  in  this  hemisphere,  was  that  which  occurred  in  Massachusetts,  at 
Amherst,  in  the  winter  of  1849,  and  of  which  Dr.  Hitchcock,  President  of 
Amherst  College,  has  furnished  a  most  graphic  account  in  his  admirable 
Lecture  on  the  "  Coronation  of  Winter,"  from  which  I  am  happy  here  to 
present  an  extract,  not  having  space  for  the  whole  account.  I  pass  over 
what  he  says  of  the  antecedents  of  the  spectacle,  and  of  the  spectacle 
itself  for  the  first  three  days,  excepting  one  sentence,  in  which  he  de- 
scribes it  thus  :  "  If  the  twigs  of  every  tree  and  shrub  and  spire  had  been 
literally  covered  with  diamonds  of  the  purest  water,  and  largest  known 
size,  say  an  inch  in  diameter,  they  would  not,  I  am  sure,  have  poured 
upon  the  eye  in  the  sunlight  a  more  dazzling  splendor."  He  proceeds 
to  say : 

I  could  not  believe  that  any  more  splendid  developments  of  this  phe- 
nomenon awaited  me.  But  on  Saturday  night  the  thermometer  sunk  to 
zero,  and  on  Sunday  morning  the  sun  arose  in  a  cloudless  sky,  and  the  icy 
shoots  and  pendants,  more  thoroughly  crystallized  by  the  intense  cold, 
formed  ten  thousand  points  of  overwhelming  brightness  on  every  side. 
Nor  were  all  the  sparkling  brilliants,  as  on  the  day  before,  of  colorless 
light.  But  here  and  there  I  began  to  notice  the  prismatic  colors ;  now 
exhibiting  a  gem  of  most  splendid  sapphire  blue  ;  next  one  of  amethyst- 
ine purple  ;  next  one  of  intense  topaz  yellow ;  then  a  sea-green  beryl, 
changing,  by  a  slight  change  of  posture,  into  a  rich  emerald  green  ;  and 
then  one  of  deep  hyacinth  red.  As  the  sun  approached  the  meridian,  the 
number  and  splendor  of  these  colored  gems  increased  ;  so  that  on  a  single 
tree  hundreds  of  them  might  be  seen,  and  sometimes  so  large  was  their 
size,  arid  intense  their  color,  that  at  a  distance  of  fifty  rods  they  seemed 
equal  to  Sirius,  nay,  to  the  morning  star  !  and  of  hues  the  most  delicate 
and  rich  that  can  be  conceived  of,  exactly  imitating,  so  far  as  I  could 
judge,  the  natural  gems ;  and  not  partaking  at  all  of  those  less  delicate 
and  gaudy  tints,  by  which  a  practised  eye  can  distinguish  genuine  from 
supposititious  precious  stones.  And  by  moving  the  eye  a  few  inches,  we 
could  see  these  different  colors  pass  into  one  another,  and  thus  witness  the 
rich  intermediate  shades.  I  have  seen  many  splendid  groups  of  precious 
stones,  wrought  and  unwrought,  in  the  large  collections  of  our  land ;  and 
until  I  witnessed  this  scene,  they  seemed  of  great  beauty  ;  but  it  is  now 
literally  true  that  they  appeared  to  me  comparatively  dull  and  insignifi* 


308  WINTER. 

Where  transient  hues  and  fancied  figures  rise ; 
Wide-spouted  o'er  the  hill,  the  frozen  brook, 
A  livid  tract,  cold  gleaming  on  the  morn ; 
k    The  forest  bent  beneath  the  plumy  wave ; 

And  by  the  frost  refined  thcrWflllfSF  Snow,  755 

cant.  In  short,  it  seemed  as  if  I  was  gazing  upon  a  landscape  which  had 
before  existed  only  in  a  poet's  imagination.  It  is  what  he  would  call  a 
fairy  land  ;  but  a  more  Christian  designation  would  be,  a  celestial  land. 

On  Monday  it  was  cloudy,  and  the  phenomena  presented  no  new  aspect. 
On  Tuesday  there  was  a  storm  of  fine  rain  and  snow,  and  the  beautiful 
transparency  of  the  icy  coat  was  changed  into  the  aspect  of  ground  glass. 
This  gave  to  the  trees  a  new  and  more  delicate  appearance.  They  re- 
sembled enchased  work,  formed  of  pure  unburnished  silver ;  and  had  the 
sun  shone  upon  them,  they  must  have  been  intensely  beautiful.  I  now 
supposed  that  the  most  brilliant  part  of  this  scene — its  golden  period — 
had  passed,  and  that  the  silver  period  of  Tuesday  would  soon  be  succeed- 
ed by  the  usual  iron  reign  of  Winter,  especially  as  there  fell  several  inches 
of  snow  during  the  night.  But  the  cold  restored  the  ice  upon  the  trees 
to  more  than  its  original  transparency,  and  the  sun  rose  on  Wednesday 
morning  upon  a  cloudless  sky  ;  and  a  wind  scattered  the  snow  from  the 
branches,  and  all  the  phenomena  opened  upon  us  with  more  than  their 
sabbath- day  glories. 

As  the  sun  approached  the  meridian,  one  had  only  to  receive  his  rays 
at  a  certain  angle,  refracted  through  the  crystal  covering  of  a  tree,  in  or- 
der to  witness  gems  more  splendid  than  art  ever  prepared.  Four-fifths 
of  them  were  diamonds,  but  the  sapphires  were  numerous  ;  the  topaz  and 
the  beryl  not  infrequent,  and  occasionally  the  chrysolite  and  the  hyacinth 
shone  with  intense  brilliancy.  There  was  wind  also  on  that  day  ;  and  as 
the  branches  waved  to  and  fro,  these  various  gems  appeared  and  vanish- 
ed, and  re-appeared  in  endless  variety ;  chaining  the  eye  to  the  spot, 
until  the  overpowered  optic  nerve  shrunk  from  its  office.  But  the  rich 
vision  did  not  cease  through  all  that  cloudless  day.  Nor  did  it  terminate 
when  the  sun  went  down ;  for  then  the  full-orbed  moon  arose,  and  gave 
another  most  bewitching  aspect  to  the  scene.  During  the  day  the  light 
had  been  painfully  intense  ;  but  the  softness  of  moonlight  permitted  the 
eye  to  gaze  and  gaze  untired,  and  yet  the  splendor  seemed  hardly  less 
than  through  the  day.  Most  of  the  bright  points  were  of  a  mild  topaz 
yellow,  and  when  seen  against  the  heavens  could  hardly  be  distinguished 
from  the  stars;  or  when  seen  in  the  forest,  especially  as  one  passed  rap- 
idly along,  it  seemed  as  if  countless  fire-flies  were  moving  among  the 
branches.  Yet,  occasionally,  I  saw  other  colors  of  the  spectrum,  espe- 
cially the  bluish-green  of  the  beryl  Through  that  live-long  night  did 
these  indescribable  glories  meet  the  eye  of  the  observer.  And  on  Thurs- 


WINTER.  309 


,.  Incrusted  hard,  and  sounding  to  the  tread 

|  Of  early  shepherd,  as  he  pensive  seeks 
His  pining  flock,  or  from  the  mountain  top, 
Pleased  with  the  slippery  surface,  swift  descends. 

SPORTS    ON    THE    ICE    AND    SNOW. 

On  blithesome  frolics  bent,  the  youthful  swains,          760 
While  every  work  of  man  is  laid  at  rest, 
Fond  o'er  the  river  crowd,  in  various  sport 
And  revelry  dissolved  ;  where  mixing  glad, 
Happiest  of  all  the  train  !  the  raptured  boy 
Lashes  the  whirling  top.     Or,  where  the  Rhine  765 

Branched  out  in  many  a  long  canal  extends, 
From  every  province  swarming,  void  of  care, 
Batavia  rushes  forth  :  and,  as  they  sweep, 
On  sounding  skates,  a  thousand  different  ways, 
In  circling  poise,  swift  as  the  winds,  along,  770 

The  then  gay  land  is  madden'd  all  to  joy. 
Nor  less  the  northern  courts,  wide  o'er  the  snow 

day  another  cloudless  morning  and  clear  shining  sun  brought  back  the 
glories  of  Wednesday :  nay,  to  my  eye  this  last  day  of  the  spectacle 
seemed  the  most  splendid  of  all ;  and  one  could  hardly  realize  that  he 
was  not  translated  to  some  celestial  region. 

Job  speaks  of  the  balancing  of  the  clouds  as  among  the  mysteries  of 
ancient  philosophy  ;  but  how  much  nicer  the  balancing  and  counterbal- 
ancing of  the  complicated  agencies  of  the  atmosphere,  in  order  to  bring 
out  this  glacial  miracle  in  its  full  perfection  !  What  wisdom  and  power, 
short  of  infinite,  could  have  brought  it  about !  and  when,  we  may  ask, 
shall  it  be  witnessed  again  ?  Hardly  dare  we  hope,  during  our  short 
lives,  again  to  see  the  time  when  all  the  requisite  contingencies  shall 
conspire  to  bring  this  identical  phenomenon  before  us,  that  we  may  feast 
our  eyes  with  its  beauties.  Let  us  be  thankful  that  we  have  seen  it  once, 
and  for  so  many  days,  and  under  so  many  phases  ;  and  let  us  not  fail  to 
learn  from  it  a  new  and  impressive  lesson  of  the  infinite  skill  and  benevo- 
lence of  the  Author  of  Nature. 

768.  Batavia  :  Here  used  for  the  people  of  Batavia,  or  Holland,  which 
abounds  in  canals. 

772.  Northern  courts  :  The  nobility  of  the  northern  countries  of  Europe. 


310  WINTER. 

Pour  a  new  pomp.     Eager,  on  rapid  sleds, 
Their  vigorous  youth  in  bold  contention  wheel 
The  long  resounding  course.     Meantime  to  raise 
The  manly  strife,  with  highly  blooming  charms, 
Flush'd  by  the  season,  Scandinavia's  dames, 
Or  Russia's  buxom  daughters,  glow  around. 

Pure,  quick,  and  sportful  is  the  wholesome  day ; 
But  soon  elapsed.     The  horizontal  sun, 
Broad  o'er  the  south,  hangs  at  his  utmost  noon-, 
And,  ineffectual,  strikes  the  jjelidjsliff. 
His  azure  gloss  the  mountain  still  maintains, 
Nor  feels  the  feeble  touch.     Perhaps  the  vale 
Relents  a  while  to  the  reflected  ray ; 
Or  from  the  forest  falls  the  cluster'd  snow, 
Myriads  of  gems,  that  in  the  waving  gleam 
Gay  twinkle  as  they  scatter.     Thick  around 
Thunders  the  sport  of  those,  who  with  the  gun, 
And  dog  impatient  bounding  at  the  shot, 
Worse  than  the  Season,  desolate  the  fields ; 
And,  adding  to  the  ruins  of  the  year, 
Distress  the  footed  or  the  feather'd  game. 

WINTER    SCENES    IN    THE    FRIGID    ZONE. 

But  what  is  this  ?  our  infant  Winter  sinks 
Divested  of  his  grandeur,  should  our  eye 
Astonish'd  shoot  into  the  frigid  zone  ; 
Where,  for  relentless  months,  continual  night 
Holds  o'er  the  gliUeringwaste  her  starry  reign. 

There,  through  the  prison  of  unbounded  wi]ds, 
Barr'd  by  the  hand  of  Nature  from  escape, 
Wide  roams  the  Russian  exile.     Naught  around 


777.  Scandinavia :  This  is  the  ancient  name  for  Sweden  and  Norway, 
formerly  united  in  one  kingdom. 


WINTER.  311 

Strikes  his  sad  eye  but  deserts  lost  in  snow, 
And  heavy -loaded  groves,  and  solid  floods, 
That  stretch,  athwart  the  solitary  vast, 
Their  icy  horrors  to  the  frozen  main  ;  805 

-    And  cheerless  towns  far  distant,  never  bless'd, 
Save  when  its  annual  course  the  caravan 
Bends  to  the  golden  coast  of  rich  Cathay 
With  news  of  humankind.     Yet  there  life  glows ; 
Yet  cherish'd  there,  beneath  the  shining  waste,  810 

The  furry  nations  harbor  :  tipp'd  with  jet, 
Fair  ermines,  spotless  as  the  snows  they  press ; 
Sables,  of  glossy  black  ;  and  dark-embrown'd, 
Or  beauteous  freak'd  with  many  a  mingled  hue, 
Thousands  besides,  the  costly  pride  of  courts.  815 

There,  warm  together  press'd,  the  trooping  deer 
Sleep  on  the  new-fallen  snows ;  and,  scarce  his  head 

808.   Cathay  :  The  name  formerly  given  to  China. 

812.  Ermine:  A  species  of  Mustela,  or  Stoat,  differing  from  the  com 
raon  weazel  in  being  about  one-third  larger,  and  in  having  a  somewhat 
broader  head  and  a  longer  tail.  In  the  summer  season  the  upper  part  of 
the  head,  neck,  and  body,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  tail,  are  of  a  pale 
reddish-brown  color  ;  tip  of  the  tail  black,  and  somewhat  bushy.  In  the 
winter  the  whole  of  the  body  becomes  white,  slightly  tinged  with  yel- 
low ;  but  the  black  termination  of  the  tail  is  permanent.  The  fur  is  closer 
and  finer  at  this  season,  especially  in  the  colder  latitudes,  from  which 
countries  the  ermine  affords  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  valuable  of 
furs.  When  made  up,  the  tails  are  inserted  one  to  each  skin,  at  regular 
distances,  and  in  the  quincunx  order  ;  and  thus  arranged  the  ermine  fur 
forms  the  distinctive  doubling  of  the  state  robes  of  sovereigns  and  nobles, 
as  well  as  of  their  crowns  and  coronets. — BRANDE. 

818.  Sable :  A  small  quadruped,  allied  to  the  martin-cat,  celebrated  for 
the  fine  quality  and  rich  color  of  its  fur,  of  which  the  hairs  turn  with 
equal  ease  in  every  direction.  A  single  skin  of  the  darker  color,  though 
not  above  four  inches  broad,  has  been  valued  as  high  as  fifteen  pounds 
sterling.  The  sable  is  principally  a  nafive  of  the  northern  regions  of 
Asia :  it  is  hunted  and  killed  for  the  Russian  market,  either  by  a  single 
ball,  a  blunt  arrow,  or  traps,  by  exiles  or  soldiers  sent  for  that  purpose 
in  the  deserts  of  Siberia.  A  nearly  allied  animal,  called  "  the  fisher," 
inhabits  North  America,  and  is  similarly  sought  after,  and  destroyed  for 
its  fur. — BRANDS, 


312  WINTER. 

Raised  o'er  the  heapy  wreath,  the  branching  elk, 

Lies  slumbering  sullen  in  the  white  abyss. 

The  ruthless  hunter  wants  nor  dogs  nor  toils  ;  820 

Nor  with  the  dread  of  sounding  bows  he  drives 

The  fearful,  flying  race  :  with  ponderous  clubs, 

As  weak  against  the  mountain  heaps  they  push 

Their  beating  breast  in  vain,  and  piteous  bray, 

He  lays  them  quivering  on  th'  ensanguined  snows,          825 

And  with  loud  shouts  rejoicing  bears  them  home. 

There  through  the  piny  forest,  half  absorbed, 

Rough  tenant  of  these  shades,  the  shapeless  bear, 

With  dangling  ice  all  horrid,  stalks  forlorn. 

Slow-paced,  and  sourer  as  the  storms  increase,  830 

He  makes  his  bed  beneath  the  inclement  drift, 

And,  with  stern  patience,  scorning  weak  complaint, 

Hardens  his  heart  against  assailing  want. 

Wide  o'er  the  spacious  regions  of  the  north, 
That  see  Bootes  urge  his  tardy  wain,  835 

A  boisterous  race,  by  frosty  Caurus  pierced, 
Who  little  pleasure  know  and  fear  no  pain, 
Prolific  swarm.     They  once  relumed  the  flame        ^    *S  S 
Of  lost  mankind  in  polish'd  slavery  sunk  ; 
Drove  martial  horde  on  horde,  with  dreadful  sweep       840 
Resistless  rushing  o'er  th'  enfeebled  south, 
And  gave  the  vanquish'd  world  another  form. 
Not  such  the  sons  of  Lapland  :  wisely  they 
Despise  th'  insensate,  barbarous  trade  of  war ; 
They  ask  no  more  than  simple  Nature  gives ;  845 

885.  Bootes  :  Bear-driver,  one  of  the  northern  constellations.  Wain  : 
Wagon. 

836.  Caurus  :  The  northwest  wind. 

840.  Horde  on  horde :  The  wandering  Scythian  clans-  -the  Huns,  Van- 
dals, <fec. — that  originally  occupied  the  northern  part  of  Asia  and  the 
northeastern  section  of  Europe,  and  thence  made  incursions  into  southern 
and  western  Europe — entirely  changing  the  political  and  social  aspect, 
and  literature,  of  the  countries  they  overrun  and  subdued. 


WINTER.  313 

^T    jHie^Jove  their ^ojaptains.  and  enjoy  their  storms. 
No  false  desires,  no  pride-created  wants, 
Disturb  the  peaceful  current  of  their  time, 
And  through  the  restless,  ever  tortured  maze 
Of  pleasure  or  ambition,  bid  it  rage.  850 

Their  reindeer  form  their  riches.     These  their  tents, 
Their  robes,  their  beds,  and  all  their  homely  wealth 
Supply ;  their  wholesome  fare  and  cheerful  cups. 
Obsequious  at  their  call,  the  docile  tribe 
Yield  to  the  sled  their  necks,  and  whirl  them  swift         855 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  heap'd  into  one  expanse 
Of  marbled  snow,  as  far  as  eye  can  sweep, 
With  a  blue  crust  of  ice  unbounded  glazed. 
By  dancing  meteors  then,  that  ceaseless  shake 

551.  Reindeer :  The  singular  usefulness  of  this  animal  in  a  great  meas- 
ure recompenses  the  Laplander  for  the  privation  of  the  other  comforts  of 
life.  The  reindeer  in  summer  live  upon  leaves  and  grass,  and  in  winter 
upon  moss,  which  they  dig  up  from  under  the  snow ;  yet  upon  such 
scanty  fare  they  will  perform  a  journey  of  inconceivable  length.  The 
animal  is  fixed  to  a  kind  of  sledge,  shaped  like  a  small  boat,  in  which  the 
traveller,  well  secured  from  cold,  is  laced  down ;  and  taking  the  reins, 
which  are  fastened  to  the  horns  of  the  animal,  in  one  hand,  and  a  kind  of 
bludgeon,  to  keep  the  carriage  clear  of  ice  and  snow,  in  the  other,  he  sets 
out  and  continues  his  journey  with  incredible  speed  (200  miles  a  day),  the 
animals  choosing  the  road  and  directing  their  course  with  very  little  trouble 
to  the  traveller.  Their  milk  and  cheese  are  nutritive  and  pleasant ;  their 
flesh  is  well-tasted  food,  whether  fresh  or  dried  ;  their  skin  forms  excel- 
lent clothing  both  for  the  bed  and  body  ;  and  their  intestines  and  tendons 
supply  their  masters  with  thread  and  cordage. 

The  maritime  districts  of  Lapland  are  of  uniform  and  rather  mild  tem- 
perature ;  but  in  the  interior  the  winter  is  intensely  cold :  in  the  most 
northern  parts  the  sun  remains  below  the  horizon  from  the  20th  of  No- 
vember to  the  10th  of  January  ;  and  the  whole  country  is  covered  with 
enow  and  ice  from  the  beginning  of  September  to  the  middle  of  March. 
In  summer  the  sun  continues  two  months  above  the  horizon  ;  and  in  the 
valleys  and  plains  the  heat  is  excessive,  favoring  the  production  of  nu- 
merous insects,  particularly  the  rnusquitoes,  which  greatly  infest  the  in- 
habitants. Like  the  Icelanders,  they  consider  their  country  the  finest  in 
the  universe. — BROOKES. 

859.  Dancing  meteors :  These  are  generally  supposed  to  proceed  from 

14 


314  WINTER. 

A  waving  blaze,  refracted  o'er  the  heavens,  860 

And  vivid  moons,  and  stars  that  keener 'play 

With  double  lustre  from  the  glossy  waste, 

E'en  in  the  depth  of  polar  night,  they  find 

A  wondrous  day ;  enough  to  light  the  chase, 

Or  guide  their  daring  steps  to  Finland  fairs.   '  865 

Wish'd  Spring  returns  ;  and  from  the  hazy  south, 

While  dim  Aurora  slowly  moves  before, 

The  welcome  sun,  just  verging  up  at  first, 

By  small  degrees  extends  the  swelling  curve ; 

Till  seen  at  last  for  gay  rejoicing  months,  870 

Still  round  and  round  his  spiral  course  he  winds, 

And  as  he  nearly  dips  his  flaming  orb, 

Wheels  up  again,  and  reascends  the  sky ! 

In  that  glad  season,  from  the  lakes  and  floods, 

Where  pure  Niemi's  fairy  mountains  rise,  875 


electricity.  From  Flint's  Lectures,  I  derive  the  following  illustration : — 
Electricity  is  the  sun  of  the  poles,  like  that  planet  imparting  life  and  an- 
imation to  the  atmosphere  and  the  earth.  Under  its  influence,  as  if 
fostered  by  the  solar  ray,  plants  acquire  hardihood,  life,  energy,  and  en- 
joyment, and  the  blood  a  rapidity  of  circulation  which  prevents  the 
inclemency  of  the  climate  from  being  felt.  Every  one  knows  that  the 
polar  year  is  composed  of  one  day  and  one  night  The  sun  ascends  the 
sky  at  the  vernal  equinox,  and  holds  its  revolutions  above  the  horizon  for 
six  months.  It  then  slowly  disappears  ;  but  a  long  and  beautiful-  twilight 
softens  the  gloom  of  its  departure  as  it  preceded  its  coming.  As  soon  as 
all  traces  of  the  glorious  planet  have  disappeared,  innumerable  varying 
luminous  spectacles  kindle  in  the  sky.  Flames  of  a  thousand  hues,  glit- 
tering globes,  and  scarfs  of  light  flash  across  the  extent  of  the  heavens. 
These  meteors  silently  traverse  the  celestial  spaces,  uniting  in  the  zenith, 
where  they  form  porticoes,  arches,  and  gulfs  of  fire.  One  wide  conflagra- 
tion seems  to  fill  the  heavens,  where  Aurora  Borealis  reigns  the  superb 
aerial  meteor  of  the  ascendant.  See  note  on  903. 

875.  Niemi :  M.  De  Maupertius,  in  his  book  on  the  Figure  of  the  Earth, 
after  having  described  the  beautiful  lake  and  mountain  of  Niemi,  in  Lap- 
land, says  :  l<  From  this  height  we  had  opportunity  several  times  to  see 
those  vapors  rise  from  the  lake,  which  the  people  of  the  country  call  Hal- 
tios,  and  which  they  deem  to  be  the  guardian  spirits  of  the  mountains. 
We  had  been  frighted  with  stories  of  bears  that  haunted  this  place,  but 


WINTER.  315 

And  fringed  with  roses  Tenglio  rolls  his  stream, 

They  draw  the  copious  fry.     With  these,  at  eve, 

They,  cheerful  loaded,  to  their  tents  repair ; 

Where,  all  day  long  in  useful  cares  employ'd, 

Their  kind,  unblemished  wives  the  fire  prepare.  880 

Thrice  happy  race  !  by  poverty  secured 

From  legal  plunder  and  rapacious  power ; 

In  whom  fell  interest  never  yet  has  sown 

The  seeds  of  vice  ;  whose  spotless  swains  ne'er  knew 

Injurious  deed  ;  nor  blasted  by  the  breath  885 

Of  faithless  love,  their  blooming  daughters  woe. 

THE    AWFUL    GRANDEUR    OF    THE    POLAR    REGIONS. 

Still  pressing  on,  beyond  Tornea's  lake, 
And  Hecla  flaming  through  a  waste  of  snow, 
And  furthest  Greenland,  to  the  pole  itself, 
Where,  failing  gradual,  life  at  length  goes  out,  890 

The  Muse  expands  her  solitary  flight ; 
And,  hovering  o'er  the  wild  stupendous  scene, 
Beholds  new  seas  beneath  another  sky. 
Throned  in  his  palace  of  cerulean  ice, 
Here  Winter  holds  his  unrejoicing  court ;  895 


saw  none.     It  seemed  rather  a  place  of  resort  for  fairies  and  genii,  than 
bears." 

876.  Tenglio  :  The  same  author  observes :  "  I  was  surprised  to  see  upon 
the  banks  of  this  river  (the  Tenglio)  roses  of  as  lively  a  red  as  any  that 
are  in  our  gardens." 

887.  Tornea  s  lake :  Tornea,  a  river  of  Sweden,  takes  its  rise  in  the 
borders  of  Norway,  and  forms  a  lake  bearing  the  same  name,  and  then 
flows  southeast  into  the  Gulf  of  Bothnia,  below  Tornea,  a  place  of  some 
trade  under  the  government  of  Finland. 

888.  Hecla  is  a  volcanic  mountain  in  Iceland.     This  island  is  a  depend- 
ency of  Denmark,  and  contains  some  other  volcanoes,  the  action  of  which 
in  1783  exceeded  in  violence  and  terror  any  other  eruptions  that  are  on 
record. 

803.  Another  sky  :  The  other  hemisphere. 


WINTER. 

And  through  his  airy  hall  the  loud  misrule 

Of  driving  tempest  is  forever  heard  : 

Here  the  grim.. tyrant  meditates  his  wrath  ; 

Here  arms  his  winds  with  all-subduing  frost ; 

Moulds  his  fierce  hail,  and  treasures  up  his  snows,          900 

With  which  he  now  oppresses  half  the  globe. 

Thence,  winding  eastward  to  the  Tartar's  coast, 
She  sweeps  the  howling  margin  of  the  main  ; 
Where,  undissolving,  from  the  first  of  time, 
Snows  swell  on  snows  amazing  to  the  sky ;  ^-«  — ^fcV^  905 
And  icy  mountains,  high  on  mountains  piled, 
""*  Seem  to  the  shivering  sailor  from  afar, 

Shapeless  and  white,  an  atmosphere  of  clouds. 

Projected  huge  and  horrid  o'er  the  surge, 

Alps  frown  on  Alps  ;  or,  rushing  hideous  down,  910 

(As  if  old  Chaos  was  again  returned,) 

Wide  rend  the  deep,  and  shake  the  solid  pole. 

Ocean  itself  no  longer  can  resist 

The  binding  fury  ;  but  in  all  its  rage 

903.  Main  :  The  ocean  lying  to  the  north  of  Asia.  At  the  North  Cape 
(says  Bucke),  Acerbi  felt  as  if  all  the  cares  of  life  had  vanished ;  worldly 
pursuits  assumed  the  character  of  dreams  ;  the  forms  and  energies  of  an- 
imated nature  seemed  to  fade  away,  and  the  earth  appeared  as  if  it  were 
about  to  revert  to  its  original  elements  (911).  A  solemn  magnificence,  an 
interminable  space,  wearing  the  aspect  of  infinity,  characterized  the  scene. 
The  billows  dashed  in  awful  grandeur  against  rocks  coeval  with  the  globe  ; 
marine  birds,  wild  in  character  and  dissonant  in  language,  skimmed  along 
their  girdles ;  the  moon  shed  her  solemn  lustre  on  their  dark  and  frown- 
ing pyramids ;  the  stars  glowed  with  burnished  brilliancy ;  and  the  Au- 
rora Borealis  added  terrific  interest  to  the  gloomy  majesty  of  the  whole. 

And  what  (he  adds)  can  be  more  awful,  and,  at  the  same  time,  more 
beautiful,  than  the  wild  and  mysterious  motions  and  colors  which  this 
polar  phenomenon  presents  ?  sometimes  covering  with  inconceivable 
magnificence  the  concave  of  the  whole  hemisphere,  changing  its  positions 
every  moment ;  now  resembling  vast  pyramids,  or  stretching  into  innu- 
merable columns,  varying  their  shapes  and  hues  with  astonishing  rapidity 
and  with  endless  caprice ;  now  vanishing  in  an  instant,  leaving  the  heav- 
ens sombre  and  black  ;  and  again  suddenly  returning  with  increased  splen- 
jlor,  shedding  a  matchless  glory  over  the  whole  sky. 


WINTER.  317 

Of  tempest,  taken  by  the  boundless  frost,  915 

Is  many  a  fathom  to  the  bottom  chain'd, 

And  bid  to  roar  no  more  :  a  bleak  expanse, 

Shagg'd  o'er  with  wavy  rocks,  cheerless  and  void 

Of  every  life,  that  from  the  dreary  months 

Flies  conscious  southward.     Miserable  they  !  920 

Who,  here  entangled  in  the  gathering  ice, 

Take  their  last  look  of  the  descending  sun  ; 

While,  full  of  death  and  fierce  with  tenfold  frost, 

The  long,  long  night,  incumbent  o'er  their  heads, 

Falls  horrible.     Such  was  the  Briton's  fate,  925 

As  with  first  prow  (what  have  not  Britons  dared  ?) 

He  for  the  passage  sought,  attempted  since 

So  much  in  vain,  and  seeming  to  be  shut 

By  jealous  nature  with  eternal  bars. 

In  these  fell  regions  in  Arzina  caught,  •        930 

And  to  the  stony  deep  his  idle  ship 

925.  Briton's  fate  :  Sir  Hugh  Willoughby,  sent  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to 
discover  the  northeast  passage. 

930-935.  In  these  fell  regions,  &c. :  To  prepare  the  way  for  a  criticism     > 
on  this  admirable  passage,  Prof.  Wilson  observes : — How  pleasant  to  see  ^ 
the  peculiar  genius  of  Cowper  contrasted  with  that  of  Thomson.     The 
gentle  Cowper  delighting,  for  the  most  part,  in  tranquil  images — for  his 
life  was  passed  amidst  tranquil  nature ;  the  enthusiastic  Thomson  more 
pleased  with  images  of  power.     Cowper  says  : 

"  On  the  flood, 

Indurated  and  fix'd,  the  snowy  weight 
Lies  undissolved  while  silently  beneath 
And  unperceived  the  current  steals  away" 

How  many  thousand  times  the  lines  we  are  now  going  to  quote  have  been 
quoted,  nobody  can  tell ;  but  we  quote  them  once  more  for  the  purpose 
of  asking  you,  if  you  think  any  one  poet  of  this  age  could  have  written 
them — could  have  chilled  one's  very  soul  as  well  as  body,  with  such  in- 
tense feeling  of  cold  \  Not  one. 

"In  these  fell  regions,  in  Arzina  caught, 
And  to  the  stony  deep  his  idle  ship 
Immediate  seaVd,  he  with  his  hapless  crew, 
Each  full  exerted  at  his  several  task, 
Froze  into  statues — to  the  cordage  glued 
The  sailor,  and  the  pilot  to  his  helm  /" 


318  WINTER. 

Immediate  seal'd,  he  with  his  hapless  crew,  T 

Each  full  exerted  at  his  several  task, 

Froze  into  statues  ;  to  the  cordage  glued 

The  sailor,  and  the  pilot  to  the  helm.  935 

Hard  by  these  shores,  where  scarce  his  freezing  stream 
Rolls  the  wild  Oby,  live  the  last  of  men  ; 
And,  half  enliven'd  by  the  distant  sun, 
That  rears  and  ripens  man  as  well  as  plants, 
Here  human  Nature  wears  its  rudest  form.  940 

Deep  from  the  piercing  season  sunk  in  caves, 
Here  by  dull  fires,  and  witl^  unjojousjcjxeejy—- 
They  waste  the  tedious  gloom.     Immersed  in  furs, 
Doze  the  gross  race.     Nor  sprightly  jest,  nor  song, 
Nor  tenderness  they  know  ;  nor  aught  of  life  945 

Beyond  the  kindred  bears  that  stalk  without ; 
Till  morn  at  length,  her  roses  drooping  all, 


The  oftener — the  more  we  read  the  "  Winter" — especially  the  last  two  or 
three  hundred  lines — the  angrier  is  our  wonder  with  Wordsworth  for  as- 
serting that  Thomson  owed  the  national  popularity  that  his  "Winter" 
immediately  won,  to  his  commonplace  sentimentalities,  and  his  vicious 
style  !  Yet  true  it  is  that  he  was  sometimes  guilty  of  both ;  and,  but 
for  his  transcendent  genius,  they  might  have  obscured  the  lustre  of  his 
fame.  But  such  sins  are  not  very  frequent  in  the  "  Seasons,"  and  were 
all  committed  in  the  glow  of  that  fine  and  bold  enthusiasm,  which,  to  his 
imagination,  arrayed  all  things,  and  all  words,  in  a  light  that  seemed  to 
him  at  the  time  to  be  poetry — though  sometimes  it  was  but  "  false  glit- 
ter." Besides,  he  was  but  young ;  and  his  great  work  was  his  first.  He 
had  not  philosophized  his  language  into  poetry,  as  Wordsworth  himself 
has  done,  after  long  years  of  profoundest  study  of  the  laws  of  thought 
and  speech.  But  in  such  study,  while  much  is  gained,  is  not  something 
lost  \  And  is  there  not  a  charm  in  the  free,  flowing,  chartered  libertinism 
of  the  diction  and  versification  of  the  "  Seasons" — above  all,  in  the  closing 
strains  of  the  "  Winter,"  and  in  the  whole  of  the  "  Hymn,"  which  inspires 
a  delight  and  wonder,  that  is  seldom  breathed  upon  us — glorious  poem, 
on  the  whole,  as  it  is — from  the  more  measured  march  of  the  "  Ex-; 
cursion." 

937.  Oby  :  the  largest  river  of  Siberia — 1900  miles  long,  and  navigable 
nearly  the  whole  distance.  The  last  of  men  occupy  its  shores,  that  is, 
none  are  found  north  of  this  region. 


WINTEK.  '    319 


Sheds  a  long  twilight  brightening  o'er  their  field, 
And  calls  the  quiver 'd  savage  to  the  chase.  / 


\'*\ 


PETER    THE    GREAT,    OF    RUSSIA, 


X 


What  cannot  active  government  perform,  950 

New  moulding  man  ?     Wide  stretching  from  these  shores, 
A  people  savage  from  remotest  time, 
A  huge  neglected  empire,  one  vast  mind, 
By  Heaven  inspired,  from  Gothic  darkness  call'd. 
Immortal  Peter !  first  of  monarchs  !  he  955 

955.  Immortal  Peter :  a  monarch  of  singular  energy  and  originality  of 
character,  to  whom,  more  than  to  any  other  of  her  monarchs,  Russia 
stands  indebted  for  the  promotion  of  her  national  interests.  The  services 
which  he  performed  are  admirably  stated  by  Thomson,  and  with  great 
fulness  of  detail,  yet  some  of  the  points  admit  of  a  happy  illustration  from 
the  pages  of  Russell's  Modern  Europe.  Several  princes  (says  this  his- 
torian), before  this  illustrious  barbarian,  disgusted  with  the  pursuits  of 
ambition,  or  tired  with  sustaining  the  load  of  public  affairs,  had  renounced 
their  crowns,  and  taken  refuge  in  the  shade  of  indolence,  or  of  philosophi- 
cal retirement ;  but  history  affords  no  example  of  any  sovereign  who  had 
divested  himself  of  the  royal  character  in  order  to  learn  the  art  of  govern- 
ing better :  that  was  a  stretch  of  magnanimity  reserved  for  Peter  the 
Great.  Though  almost  destitute  himself  of  education,  he  discovered,  by 
the  natural  force  of  his  genius,  and  a  few  conversations  with  strangers, 
his  own  rude  state  and  the  savage  condition  of  his  subjects.  He  resolved 
to  become  worthy  of  the  character  of  a  MAN,  to  see  men,  and  to  have  men 
to  govern.  Animated  by  the  noble  ambition  of  acquiring  instruction,  and 
of  carrying  back  to  his  people  the  improvements  of  other  nations,  he  ac- 
cordingly quitted  his  dominions  in  1697,  as  a  private  gentleman  in  the 
retinue  of  three  ambassadors  whom  he  sent  to  different  courts  of  Europe. 

As  soon  as  Peter  arrived  at  Amsterdam,  which  was  the  first  place  that 
particularly  attracted  his  notice,  he  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  com- 
merce and  the  mechanical  arts;  and,  in  order  more  completely  to  acquire 
the  art  of  ship-building,  he  entered  himself  as  a  carpenter  in  one  of  the 
principal  dock-yards,  and  labored  and  lived  in  all  respects,  as  the  common 
journeymen.  At  his  leisure  hours  he  studied  natural  philosophy,  naviga- 
tion, fortification,  surgery,  and  such  other  sciences  as  may  be  necessary  to 
the  sovereign  of  a  barbarous  people.  From  Holland  he  passed  over  to 
England,  where  he  perfected  himself  in  the  art  of  ship-building.  King 
William,  in  order  to  gain  his  favor,  entertained  him  with  a  naval  review, 


320  WINTER. 

His  stubborn  country  tamed  ;  her  rocks,  her  fens, 

Her  floods,  her  seas,  her  ill-submitting  sons ; 

And  while  the  fierce  barbarian  he  subdued, 

To  more  exalted  soul  he  raised  the  man. 

Ye  shades  of  ancient  heroes,  ye  who  toiTd  960 

Through  long,  successive  ages  to  build  up 

A  laboring  plan  of  state,  behold  at  once 

The  wonder  done  !  behold  the  matchless  prince  ! 

Who  left  his  native  throne,  where  reign'd  till  then 

A  mighty  shadow  of  unreal  power ;  965 

Who  greatly  spurn'd  the  slothful  pomp  of  courts ; 

And  roaming  every  land,  in  every  port 

His  sceptre  laid  aside,  with  glorious  hand 

Unwearied  plying  the  mechanic  tool, 

Gathered  the  seeds  of  trade,  of  useful  arts,  970 

Of  civil  wisdom,  and  of  martial  skill. 

Charged  with  the  stores  of  Europe,  home  he  goes  ! 

Then  cities  rise  amid  th'  illumined  waste ; 

O'er  joyj&ssvdeserts  smiles  the  rural  reign ; 

Far  distant  flood  to  flood  is  social  join'd ;  975 

Th'  astonish'd  Euxine  hears  the  Baltic  roar ; 

Proud  navies  ride  on  seas  that  never  foam'd 

With  daring  keel  before ;  and  armies  stretch 

Each  way  their  dazzling  files,  repressing  here 

The  frantic  Alexander  of  the  North,  980 

made  him  a  present  of  an  elegant  yacht,  and  permitted  him  to  engage 
in  his  service  a  number  of  ingenious  artificers.  Thus  instructed,  and  at- 
tended by  several  men  of  science,  Peter  returned  to  Russia,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  nearly  two  years,  with  all  the  useful  and  many  of  the  ornamental 
arts  in  his  train. 

By  his  wise  agency  the  arts  and  sciences  were  introduced  into  his  then 
barbarous  empire;  in  1724  the  first  university  was  established.  In  the 
next  year  Peter  died  ;  and  it  has  been  justly  said,  that  perhaps  no  coun- 
try ever  exhibited  in  so  short  a  time,  the  wonders  that  may  be  effected 
by  the  genius  and  exertions  of  one  man. 

980.  Alexander  of  the  North  :  Charles  XII.,  of  Sweden,  who  directed 
his  great  military  energies  chiefly  against  Peter  the  Great,  and  the  Turks. 


WINTER.  321 

And  awing  there  stern  Othman's  shrinking  sons. 
Sloth  flies  the  land,  and  ignorance,  and  vice, 
Of  old  dishonor  proud.     It  glows  around, 
Taught  by  the  Royal  Hand  that  roused  the  whole, 

He  was  a  man  of  daring  courage  and  singular  success  in  his  military  en- 
terprises. He  made  war  his  business  and  his  glory.  His  death  occurred 
in  circumstances  which  show  the  warlike  and  intrepid  character  of  this 
fighting  monarch.  He  had  placed  himself  with  his  army  before  Freder- 
icshall,  in  Norway,  in  the  month  of  December,  when  the  cold  was  so  ex- 
treme that  many  of  his  soldiers  on  duty  dropped  down  dead ;  but,  to  ani- 
mate his  army,  he  exposed  himself  to  all  the  severities  of  the  weather, 
and  slept  even  in  the  open  air,  with  simply  his  cloak  wrapped  about  him. 
As  he  was  surveying  by  starlight,  one  night,  the  operations  of  his  army 
making  their  approach  to  the  place,  he  was  killed  by  a  ball  from  the  ene- 
my's cannon.  The  moment  he  received  the  blow,  though  it  became  almost 
instantly  fatal,  it  is  said  that  he  grasped  instinctively  the  hilt  of  his  sword, 
and  was  found  dead  with  his  hand  in  that  position,  so  characteristic  of  the 
master-passion  of  his  soul. 

During  one  of  his  campaigns  against  Peter,  a  proposal  of  peace  was 
sent  to  him  by  the  latter,  to  which  he  arrogantly  replied  :  "  I  will  treat 
at  Moscow" — meaning  that  he  would  make  peace  when  he  had  conquered 
the  capital  of*  the  Czar.  "  My  brother  Charles,"  replied  the  Czar,  when 
this  answer  was  conveyed  to  him,  "  always  affects  to  play  the  Alexander  ; 
but  he  will  not,  I'hope,  find  in  me  a  Darius."  Charles,  with  all  the  bravery 
and  self-confidence  of  Alexander,  but  without  his  wisdom  and  foresight, 
attempted,  without  adequate  preparations,  to  march  to  Moscow ;  and  the 
Czar  defeated  his  purpose  by  destroying  the  roads  and  laying  waste  the 
country. 

In  the  opinion  of  Russell,  "  no  prince  perhaps  ever  had  fewer  weaknesses, 
or  possessed  so  many  eminent  with  so  few  amiable  qualities,  as  Charles 
XIL,  of  Sweden.  Rigidly  just,  but  void  of  lenity  ;  romantically  brave, 
but  blind  to  consequences ;  profusely  generous,  without  knowing  how  to 
oblige  ;  temperate  without  delicacy ;  and  chaste  without  acquiring  the 
praise  of  continence,  because  he  seems  to  have  -been  insensible  to  the 
charms  of  the  sex  ;  a  stranger  to  the  pleasures  of  society,  and  but  slightly 
acquainted  with  books ;  a  Goth  in  his  manners,  and  a  savage  in  his  resent- 
ments ;  resolute  even  to  obstinacy,  inexorable  in  vengeance,  and  inacces- 
sible to  sympathy,  he  has  little  to  conciliate  our  love  or  esteem.  But  his 
wonderful  intrepidity  and  perseverance  in  enterprise,  his  firmness  under 
misfortune,  his  contempt  of  danger,  and  his  enthusiastic  passion  for  glory, 
will  ever  command  our  admiration." 

981.  Othman,  a  distinguished  ruler  of  the  Turks  in  the  early  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  Turks  are  here  called  his  sons. 

14* 


322  WINTER. 

One  scene  of  arts,  of  arms,  of  rising  trade  :  985 

For  what  his  wisdom  planned,  and  power  enforced, 
More  potent  still,  his  great  example  show'd. 

FROST    SUCCEEDED    BY    A    THAW. 

Muttering,  the  winds  at  eve,  with  blunted  point, 
Blow  hollow  blustering  from  the  south.  Subdued, 
The  frost  resolves  into  a  trickling  thaw.  990 

Spotted  the  mountains  shine ;  loose  sleet  descends, 
And  floods  the  country  round.     The  rivers- swell, 
Of  bonds  impatient.     Sudden  from  the  hills, 
O'er  rocks  and  woods,  in  broad,  brown  cataracts, 
A  thousand. snow -fed  torrents  shoot  at  once ;  995 

And,  where  they  rush,  the  wide-resounding  plain 
Is  left  one  slimy  waste.     Those  sullen  seas, 
That  wash'd  th*'  ungenial  pole,  will  rest  no  more 
Beneath  the  shackles  of  the  mighty  north ; 
But,  rousing  all  their  waves,  resistless  heave.  1000 

And  hark  !  the  lengthening  roar  continuous  runs 
Athwart  the  rifted  deep ;  at  once  it  bursts, 
And  piles  a  thousand  mountains,  to  the  clouds. 

'S3^mS5Saaa»»'ii""  «  "  "*"   '  ^g*fcfeM*'''^"'"i^anrjiii  i»i^r>  '  L 

111  fares  the  bark,  with  trembling  wretches  charged,  ' 

That,  toss'd  amid  the  floating  fragments,  moors  1005 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  icy  isle ; 

While  night  o'erwhelms  the  sea,  and  horror  looks 

More  horrible.     Can  human  force  endure 

Th'  assembled  mischiefs  that  besiege  them  round : 

Heart-gnawing  hunger,  fainting  weariness,          «J^       1010 

The  roar  of  winds  and  waves,  the  crush  of  ice, 

Now  ceasing,  now  renew'd  with  louder  rage, 

And  in  dire  echoes  bellowing  round  the  main  ? 

o 

More  to  embroil  the  deep,  Leviathan, 
1014    Leviathan :  In  the  forty-first  chapter  of  the  book  of  Job  we  hav* 


WINTER.  323 

And  his  unwieldy  train,  in  dreadful  sport,  1015 

Tempest  the  loosen'd  brine ;,  while  through  the  gloom, 
Far  from  the  bleak,  inhospitable  shore, 
Loading  the  winds,  is  heard  the  hungry  howl 
'    uf  famish'd  monsters,  there  awaiting  wrecks. 
Yet  Providence,  that  ever- waking  Eye,  1020 

Looks  down  with  pity  on  the  feeble  toil 
Of  mortals,  lost  to  hope,  and  lights  them  safe, 
Through  all  this  dreary  labyrinth  of  fate. 


. _     \         THE    SEASONS,    A    PICTURE    OF    HUMAN    LIFE. 

'Tis  done  !  dread  Winter  spreads  his  latest  glooms, 
And  reigns  tremendous  o'er  the  conquered  year.  1025 

How  dead  the  vegetable  kingdom  lies  ! 
How  dumb  the  tuneful !     Horror  wide  extends 
His  desolate  domain.     Behold,  fond  man ! 

a  description  of  this  marine  animal,  which  applies  to  the  whale  more  closely 
than  to  any  other  monster  of  the  deep. 

1028-1041.  Behold,  &c. :  What  a  noble  and  practical  conclusion  is  here 
given  to  this  admirable  Poem  !  The  author  wisely  seeks  not  only  to  store 
our  minds  with  a  knowledge  of  Nature  and  of  men,  but  to  give  our  thoughts 
a  religious  and  profitable  direction.  He  calls  us  to  a  contemplation  of 
our  own  life  as  pictured  in  the  scenes  of  the  Seasons  which  he  has  so 
beautifully  described.  He  reminds  us  that  Autumn  and  Winter  succeed 
to  our  Spring  and  our  Summer :  that  former  hopes  have  fled ;  that  the 
bustling  activities  of  vigorous  manhood  will  give  place  to  a  more  quiet 
mode  of  life  ;  that  all  our  schemes,  but  those  which  have  virtue  or  reli- 
gion as  their  basis,  will  prove  evanescent  and  profitless.  And  as  the 
opening  Spring  demonstrates  the  utilities  of  Winter,  and  vindicates  the 
wisdom  and  benevolence  of  the  great  Author  of  the  Seasons,  so,  in  the 
future  state  of  man,  will  be  cleared  up  the  mysteries  of  Divine  Providence 
in  the  present  comparatively  wintry  state  of  the  Christian's  existence. 
How  consoling  to  the  good,  amid  the  adversities  and  sorrows  of  the  pres- 
ent life,  to  listen  to  the  concluding  lines,  in  which  they  are  so  tenderly 
addressed : 

"  Yet  boar  up  a  while, 

And  what  your  bounded  view,  which  only  saw 

A  little  part,  deem'd  evil,  is  no  more : 

The  storms  of  "Wintry  Time  will  quickly  pass, 

And  one  unbounded  Spring  encircle  all !" 


32* 


WINTER. 


jSee  here  thy  pictured  life :  Pass  some  few  years, 
Thy  flowering  Spring,  thy  Summer's  ardent  strength,     1030 
Thy  sober  Autumn  fading  into  age, 
And  pale  concluding  Winter  comes  at  last, 
And  shuts  the  scene.     Ah  !  whither  now  are  fled 
Those  dreams  of  greatness  ?  those  unsolid  hopes 
Of  happiness?  those  longings  after  fame?  1035 

Those  restless  cares  ?  those  busy,  bustling  days  ? 
Those  gay-spent,  festive  nights  ?  those  veering  thoughts, 
Lost  between  good  and  ill,  that  shared  thy  life  ? 
All  now  are  vanish'd !     Virtue  sole  survives, 
Immortal,  never-failing  friend  of  man,  1040 

His  guide  to  happiness  on  high.     And  see ! 
JTis  come,  the  glorious  morn !  the  second  birth 
Of  heaven  and  earth  !  ^Awakening  Nature  hears 
The  new-creating  word,  and  starts  to  life, 
In  every  heightened  form,  from  pain  and  death  J045 

Forever  free.  ;  The  great  eternal  scheme, 
Involving  att,  and  in  a  perfect  whole 
Uniting,  as  the  prospect  wider  spreads, 
To  reason's  eye  refined  clears  up  apace. 
Ye  vainly  wise!  ye  blind  presumptuous  !  now,  1050      \X 

Confounded  in  the  dust,  adore  that  Power  \^- 

And  Wisdom  oft  arraigned :  see  now  the  cause, 
Why  unassuming  worth  in  secret  lived, 
And  died  neglected ;  why  the  good  manes  share  i /, 
In  life  was  gall  and  bitterness  of  soul;  *        1055 

Why  the  lone  widow  and  her  orphans  pined  ^ 

In  starving  solitude,  while  Luxury, 
In  palaces,  lay  straining  her  low  thought, 
To  form  unreal  wants ;  why  heaven-bora  Truth, 
And  Moderation  fair,  wore  the  red  marks 
Of  Supers titiones  scourge ;  why  licensed  Pain, 
That  cruel  spoiler,  that  embosom'd  foe, 
Embittered  all  our  bliss.     Ye  ^food  distressed ! 


A 


WINTER.  325 

Ye  noble  few !  who  here  unbending  stand 

Beneath  life's  pressure,  yet  bear  up  a  while,  1065 

And  what  your  bounded  view,  which  only  saw 

A  little  part,  deem'd  evil,  is  no  more : 

The  storms  of  Wintry  Time  will  quickly  pass. 

And  one  unbounded  Spring  encircle  alL 


HYMN  ON  THE   SEASONS. 


THOMSON'S  "  SEASONS"  is  as  eminently  a  religious,  as  it  is  a 
descriptive  poem.  Thoroughly  impressed  with  sentiments  of 
veneration  for  the  Author  of  that  assemblage  of  order  and  beauty 
which  it  was  his  province  to  paint,  he  takes  every  proper  occa- 
sion to  excite  similar  emotions  in  the  breasts  of  his  readers. 
Entirely  free  from  the  gloom  of  superstition  and  the  narrowness 
of  bigotry,  he  everywhere  represents  the  Deity  as  the  kind  and 
beneficent  parent  of  all  his  works,  always  watching  over  their 
best  interests,  and  from  seeming  evil  always  educing  the  greatest 
possible  good  to  all  his  creatures.  In  every  appearance  of  na- 
ture he  beholds  the  operation  of  a  Divine  hand ;  and  regards, 
according  to  his  own  emphatical  phrase,  each'change  throughout 
the  revolving  year  as  but  the  "varied  God."  This  spirit,  which 
breaks  forth  at  intervals  in  each  division  of  his  poem,  shines  full 
and  concentred  in  the  noble  Hymn  which  crowns  the  work. 
This  piece,  the  sublimest  production  of  its  kind  since  the  days 
of  Milton,  should  be  considered  as  the  winding  up  of  all  the 
variety  of  matter  and  design  contained  in  the  preceding  parts ; 
and  thus  is  not  only  admirable  as  a  separate  composition,  but  is 
contrived  with  masterly  skill  to  strengthen  the  unity  and  con- 
nection of  the  great  whole. — AIKIN. 


HYMN. 


!  THESE,  as  they  change,  ALMIGHTY  FATHER,  these 
Are  but  the  varied  GOD.     The  rolling  year 
/  Is  full  of  THEE.     Forth  in  the  pleasing  Spring 
THY  beauty  walks,  THY  tenderness  and  love. 
Wide  flush  the  fields  ;  the  softening  air  is  balm ;  5 

Echo  the  mountains  round  ;  the  forest  smiles  ; 
And  every  sense,  and  every  heart  is  joy. 
Then  comes  THY  glory  in  the  Summer  months, 
With  light  and  heat  refulgent.     Then  THY  sun 
Shoots  full  perfection  through  the  swelling  year ;  10 

And  oft  THY  VOICE  in  dreadful  thunder  speaks ; 

2.  The  varied  God:  A  concise  and  emphatic  expression  for  the  varied 
operations  and  manifestations  of  God. 

3.  Is  full  of  Thee :  This  sentiment  has  been  admirably  illustrated  by 
Dr.  Duncan  in  his  fourth  volume  of  the  "  Seasons,"  as  follows : — It  is  the 
sense  of  a  present  Deity  which  fills  the  heart  with  the  deepest  and  purest 
emotion.      When  we  trace  his  hand  forming  the  elegant  flower,  and  paint- 
ing its  blushing  petals,  or  throwing  the  green  carpet  over  the  earth,  or 
rearing  the  lofty  forest,  or  spreading  out  the  waters  of  the  great  deep, 
and  prescribing  the  bounds  which  it  cannot  pass  ;  when  we  see  Him  shin- 
ing in  the  sun,  and  giving  glory  to  his  morning,  mid-day,  and  evening  rays, 
or  drawing  the  curtain  of  night,  and  pouring  around  us  the  softened  bright 
ness  of  ten  thousand  sparkling  worlds  ;  when  we  hear  Him  whispering  in 
the  breeze,  murmuring  in  the  stream,  or  raising  his  awful  voice  in  the 
rolling  thunder,  it  is  then  that  brute  nature  becomes  animated,  intelligent, 
and  glorious  ;  the  seen  is  but  an  indication  of  the  unseen  ;  the  inactive  of 
the  active ;  the  lifeless  and  unintellectual  mass  of  all  that  is  excellent  in 
power,  and  wisdom,  and  goodness. 


328  HYMN. 

And  oft  at. dawn,  deep  noon,  or  falling  eve, 

By  brooks  and  groves,  in  hollow- whispering  gales. 

THY  bounty  shines  in  Autumn  unconfined, 

And  spreads  a  common  feast  for  all  that  lives.  15 

In  Winter  awful  THOU  ;  with  clouds  and  storms 

Around  THEE  thrown,  tempest  o'er  tempest  roll'd ; 

Majestic  darkness  !     On  the  whirlwind's  wing, 

Riding  sublime,  THOU  bidst  the  world  adore, 

And  humblest  Nature  with  THY  northern  blast.  20 

Mysterious  round  !  what  skill,  what  force  divine, 
Deep  felt,  in  these  appear  !  a  simple  train, 
Yet  so  delightful  mix'd,  with  such  kind  art, 
Such  beauty  and  beneficence  combined  ; 
Shade  unperceived,  so  softening  into  shade  ;  25 

And  all  so  forming  an  harmonious  whole ; 
That  as  they  still  succeed,  they  ravish  still. 
But  wandering  oft,  with  brute  unconscious  gaze, 
Man  marks  not  THEE,  marks  not  the  mighty  Hand, 
That,  ever  busy,  wheels  the  silent  sphere ;  30 

Works  in  the  secret  deep  ;  shoots,  steaming,  thence 
The  fair  profusion  that  o'erspreads  the  Spring ; 
Flings  from  the  sun  direct  the  naming  day ; 
Feeds  every  creature ;  hurls  the  tempest  forth  ; 
And,  as  on  earth  this  grateful  change  revolves,  35 

With  transport  touches  all  the  springs  of  life. 

Nature,  attend  !  join,  every  living  soul 
Beneath  the  spacious  temple  of  the  sky, 
In  adoration  join  ;  and,  ardent,  raise 

One  general  song  !     To  HIM,  ye  vocal  gales,  40 

Breathe  soft,  whose  spirit  in  your  freshness  breathes  ; 
Oh,  talk  of  HIM  in  solitary  glooms ! 
Where,  o'er  the  rock,  the  scarcely  waving  pine 
Fills  the  brown  shade  with  a  religious  awe. 
And  ye,  whose  bolder  note  is  heard  afar,  45 

Who  shake  th'  astonish'd  world,  lift  high  to  Heaven 


HYMN. 

The  impetuous  song,  and  say  from  whom  y§ 

His  praise,  ye  brooks,  attune,  ye  trembling  rills ; 

And  let  me  catch  it  as  I  muse  along. 

Ye  headlong  torrents,  rapid  and  profound  ;  50 

Ye  softer  floods,  that  lead  the  humid  maze 

Along  the  vale  ;  and  thou,  majestic  main, 

A  secret  world  of  wonders  in  thyself, 

Sound  HIS  stupendous  praise  ;  whose  greater  voice 

Or  bids  you  roar  or  bids  your  roarings  fall.  55 

Soft  roll  your  incense,  herbs,  and  fruits,  and  flowers, 

In  mingled  clouds  to  HIM,  whose  sun  exalts, 

Whose  breath  perfumes  you,  and  whose  pencil  paints. 

Ye  forests,  bend  ;  ye  harvests,  wave  to  HIM  ; 

Breathe  your  still  song  into  the  reaper's  heart,  60 

As  home  he  goes  beneath  the  joyous  moon. 

Ye,  that  keep  watch  in  heaven,  as  earth  asleep 

Unconscious  lies,  effuse  your  mildest  beams, 

Ye  constellations,  while  your  angels  strike, 

Amid  the  spangled  sky,  the  silver  lyre.  65 

Great  source  of  day  !  best  image  here  below 

Of  thy  CREATOR,  ever  pouring  wide, 

From  world  to  world,  the  vital  ocean  round, 

On  Nature  write  with  every  beam  HIS  praise. 

The  thunder  rolls :  be  hush'd  the  prostrate  world,  70 

While  cloud  to  cloud  returns  the  solemn  hymn. 

Bleat  out  afresh,  ye  hills  :  ye  mossy  rocks, 

Retain  the  sound  :  the  broad  responsive  low, 

Ye  valleys,  raise ;  for  the  GREAT  SHEPHERD  reigns ; 

And  HIS  unsuffering  kingdom  yet  will  come.  75 

Ye  woodlands  all,  awake  :  a  boundless  song 

72.  Bleat  out  afresh,  ye  hills :  A  reference  is  implied  to  the  flocks  that 
cover  them,  and  by  which  the  act  is  to  be  performed :  so  in  the  next  two 
lines,  the  valleys  are  called  upon  to  raise  the  broad  responsive  low  (or 
lowing),  that  is,  from  the  cattle  grazing  in  them — in  allusion  to  both  of 
which,  accordingly,  God  is  immediately  described  as  the  Great  Shepherd. 


330  HYMN. 

Burst  from  the  groves !  and  when  the  restless  day, 

Expiring,  lays  the  warbling  world  asleep, 

Sweetest  of  birds !  sweet  Philomela,  charm 

The  listening  shades,  and  teach  the  night  HIS  praise.        80 

Ye  chief,  for  whom  the  whole  creation  smiles, 

ll  (weti  IM  bead,  tlie  heart,  and  tongue  of  all, 

Crown  the  great  hymn.     In  swarming  cities  vast, 

Assembled  men,  to  the  deep  organ  join 

The  long  resounding  voice,  oft  breaking  clear,  85 

At  solemn  pauses,  through  the  swelling  base ; 

And,  as  each  mingling  flame  increases  each, 

In  one  united  ardor  rise  to  Heaven. 

Or,  if  you  rather  choose  the  rural  shade, 

And  find  a  fane  in  every  sacred  grove  ;  90 

There  let  the  shepherd's  flute,  the  virgin's  lay, 

The  prompting  seraph,  and  the  poet's  lyre, 

Still  sing  the  GOD  OF  SEASONS  as  they  roll ! —  \ 

For  me,  when  I  forget  the  darling  theme, 

Whether  the  blossom  blows,  the  Summer  ray  95 

liussets  the  plain,  inspiring  Autumn  gleams, 

Or  Winter  rises  in  the  blackening  east ; 

Be  my  tongue  mute,  my  fancy  paint  no  more, 

And,  dead  to  joy,  forget  my  heart  to  beat ! 

Should  fate  command  me  to  the  furthest  verge  100 

Of  the  green  earth,  to  distant  barbarous  climes, 
Rivers  unknown  to  song  ;  where  first  the  sun 
Gilds  Indian  mountains,  or  his  setting  beam 
Flames  on  th'  Atlantic  isles  ;  'tis  naught  to  me ; 

79.  Philomela:  The  nightingale,  much  celebrated  by  the  British  Muse, 
as  the  sweet  bird  of  night.  The  name  was  derived  from  the  fable  of  Phi- 
lomela, a  daughter  of  an  Athenian  king,  being  changed  into  a  nightingale. 

81.    Ye  chief:  The  human  race  is  here  addressed. 

100-18.  It  would  be  folly  to  attempt  to  enhance  the  effect  of  this  clos- 
ing paragraph  by  an  exposition.  It  makes  its  appeal  intelligibly  to  the 
humblest  understanding,  and  finds  its  way  irresistibly  to  every  heart.  It 
is  equally  beautiful  in  language,  and  sublime  and  elevating  in  sentiment 


33* 

Since  GOD  is  ever  present,  ever  felt,  105 

In  the  void  waste  as  in  the  city  full ; 

And  where  HE  vital  breathes  there  must  be  joy. 

When  e'en  at  last  the  solemn  hour  shall  come, 

And  wing  my  mystic  flight  to  future  worlds, 

I  cheerful  will  obey  ;  there,  with  new  powers,  110 

Will  rising  wonders  sing.     I  cannot  go 

Where  Universal  Love  not  smiles  around, 

Sustaining  all  yon  orbs,  and  all  their  suns ; 

From  seeming  evil  still  educing  good, 

And  better  thence  again,  and  better  still,  115 

In  infinite  progression.     But  I  lose 

Myself  in  HIM,  in  light  ineffable  ! 

Come  then,  expressive  Silence,  muse  HIS  praise. 


While  none  can  withhold  his  sympathy  from  the  enraptured  poet,  whose 
theme  rises  even  beyond  his  loftiest  conceptions,  so  that,  in  despair  of 
making  an  adequate  exhibition  of  it,  he  exclaims — 

"  Come  then,  expressive  Silence,  muse  his  praise," 

I  feel  disposed,  in  reference  also  to  the  poet  himself,  in  the  production  of 
this  incomparable  Hymn,  so  just  in  its  praises  of  the  great  Author  of  all 
good,  to  make  no  further  comments,  but  invoke  expressive  Silence  to 
u  muse  his  praiso;' 


INDEI, 


Spring. 

Page 

Influence  of  Spring  on  inanimate  matter 46 

Influence  of  Spring  on  vegetable  matter 49 

The  Golden  Age ;  or  man  in  a  state  of  innocence 56 

The  Iron  Age  ;  or  man  in  a  state  of  depravity 57 

Changes  consequent  upon  the  Deluge 59 

Censure  upon  the  use  of  animal  food 59 

Trout-fishing 61 

Noon-day  recreations 63 

The  winding  and  watered  vale 66 

The  flower-garden 67 

Devout  Address  to  the  Great  Source  of  Being 69 

The  love  of  the  groves,  and  courtship  of  birds 72 

Nest-building 74 

Parental  duties  of  birds 76 

The  barbarous  bird-cage,  and  nest-robbery 77 

The  young  birds  taught  to  fly 78 

Influence  of  Spring  on  domestic  fowls,  on  brutes,  and  monsters  of 

the  deep 79 

Influence  of  Spring  on  man 83 

The  miseries  of  wild  and  irregular  passion 89 

The  tortures  of  jealousy 92 

The  joys  of  virtuous  and  wedded  love 93 

Summer. 

The  subject  proposed 103 

Address  to  Mr.  Doddington 105 

The  charms  of  early  morn 106 

The  powerful  King  of  Day 108 

The  eternal  Cause,  Support,  and  End  of  Creation 113 

The  summer  forenoon 114 

Summer  insects 115 

Nothing  formed  in  vain,  or  without  a  wise  purpose 117 

Hay-making 118 

Sheep- shearing 119 


834  INDEX. 

Page 

JNoon-day  ..................................................  122 

A  Woodland  scene  ...........................................  1  23  i 

The  romantic  water-fall  .............  <  ........................  127  1 

The  wonders  of  the  Torrid  Zone  ...............................  129  j 

Magnificent  rivers  ...........................................  139 

The  advantages  of  tropical  climes  overbalanced  .  by  their  peculiar 

disadvantages  ...........................................  142  • 

The  caravan  of  Mecca  ........................................  148 

Disasters  in  tropical  seas  .....................................  149 

Pestilence  at  Carthagena—  The  plague  .........................  151.  1 

A  tremendous  storm  in  Britain  ................................  154 

s  Sad  tale  of  Celadon  and  Amelia  ...............................  15% 

Damon  and  Musidora  ........................................  160 

The  soft  hour  for  walking  .....................................  1  65 

Complimentary  address  to  Britain  .............................  169 

Britain's  distinguished  sons  ................................  ....  171 

The  saving  virtues  of  a  country  ................................  184 

Sunset  .....................................................  185 

Summer  evening  ............................................  186 

The  night-scene  —  Meteors  and  comets  ..........................  187 

Eulogium  on  Philosophy  ......................................  191 


The  subject  proposed  ........................................  199 

Fields  ready  for  harvest  ......................................  202 

The  manifold  blessings  of  industry,  and  the  progress  of  society  .....  203 

Reaping  ...................................................  207 

Lavinia  and  Palemon  ........................................  208 

A  harvest  storm  ............................................  213 

Shooting  and  hunting  —  their  barbarity  ..........................  215 

The  fox-hunt  .........................  ......................  219 

The  frolicsome  supper  ........................................  222 

Employments  suitable  to  the  women  of  Britain  ..................  224 

The  fruit  orchard  ............................................  226 

Doddington's  country-seat  ....................................  227 

The  vineyard  ....................................  ...........  228 

Autumnal  fogs,  and  origin  of  springs  and  rivers  ..................  229 

Migration  of  birds  to  warmer  climates  ..........................  234 

View  of  Scotland  from  the  north  ..............................  236 

An  appeal  to  Scottish  patriotism  ..............................  239 

The  woods  changing  color  and  losing  their  foliage  ................  241 

Philosophic  melancholy  —  its  operations  and  effects  ................  244 

Pitt  and  Lord  Cobham  .......................................  245 

Autumnal  moonlight,  and  meteoric  appearances  .................  247 

The  moonless  night  :  the  benighted  traveller  ....................  249 


INDEX.  335 

Page 

The  invaded  bee-hive  ........................................   251 

The  last  day  of  Autumn  .....................................   252 

The  pure  pleasures  of  rural  life  ................................   253 


The  subject  proposed  ........................................  267 

Address  to  the  Earl  of  Wilmington  ............................  269 

"  The  first  approach  of  Winter  ..........  ........................  270 

Cheerless  rain-storm  .........................................  272 

Winter  tempests  ............................................  273 

Snow  mantles  the  earth  :  disturbs  the  comfort  of  animals  ..........  277 

The  cottager  perishing  in  a  snow-storm  .........................  280 

Reflections  on  human  poverty  and  wretchedness  ...............  .  .  282 

Cruelties  of  a  British  prison  in  the  eighteenth  century  ............  283 

Wolves  descending  from  the  Alps  and  Apennines  ................  284 

The  mighty  dead  of  Greece  ...................................  287 

The  great  men  of  ancient  Rome  ...............................  293 

Winter-evening  studies  and  amusements  ........................  300 

Winter  evening  in  the  city  ...................  .................  302 

The  various  operations  and  effects  of  frost  .......................  304 

Sports  on  the  ice  and  snow  ...................................  309 

Winter  scenes  in  the  Frigid  Zone  ..............................  310 

The  awful  gfendeur  of  the  polar  regions  ........................  315 

Peter  the  Great,  of  Russia  .............................  .......  319 

Frost  succeeded  by  a  thaw  ....................................  322 

The  Seasons,  a  picture  of  human  life  ...........................  323 

HYMN  ON  THE  SEASONS  ........................................  826 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


This  booTHs  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  telow,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


5  OcT5£DS            290ct'6lEE 

REC'D  LD 

JAN  24  1957 

-- 

2lOct'573? 

J^5    KG? 

tW«B* 

SFP  7  0  -59  1 

^^  L 

er,,n  i  p 

$£P  5    ^2 

JAN  Io 

— 

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^21-l?0T466o6                                Univ^sf^^&oia 
(139311slO;476                                                       Berkeley 

A  02017 

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